Too Late
by Zavocado
Summary: When Blaine came out at sixteen, everything changed. Fifty years in the future, sixteen year old Kurt is still hiding himself away, lost in the misery of a friendless high school life with only the memories of a dark-haired, kind boy who helped him when his mother died. A story of lost chances, saviors, and how love transcends the limits of Time. soulmates!Klaine, AU
1. Prologue: A New Beginning

A/N: So, here's the start of something new. I've mentioned this one a few times as "the dead!Blaine fic", and now it finally beginnings. It's now the dead!blaine/Soulmates!Klaine fic, and well, there's a whole world to introduce you guys, too, with this one. This is just the prologue for now (obviously, xD) but the plan is to try to update every Monday, to keep me and updates for you guys on a decent schedule. I've started writing chapter five, so I'm a bit ahead and hopefully that'll make Monday updates possible. Monday's need something to make them a little more bearable, yeah?

So, enjoy the start of this, feel free to ask any questions in my box on tumblr, and I know there will be a lot for the place Blaine is in the first chapter, but I'm planning on introducing that bit by bit instead of dumping it all on top of you guys at the start. Hopefully it'll get you curious enough to want more, eh?

Cheers!

**Too Late**

**Prologue: A New Beginning**

Cooper remembered getting the call; the hysterical sound of his mother's voice crackling over the landline at thirteen minutes after three in the morning, the damp darkness of his rickety little bedroom in his new apartment, even the clanking of the washing machine in the laundry room on the other side of the wall.

He could remember everything about that night, most especially the moment when his ears had finally deciphered his mother's babbling.

_Blaine. Hospital._

Without a second thought, he'd slammed the phone down and stumbled out into the hall. He'd been on the highway back to Lima in under ten minutes, but he still hadn't made it in time. The same way he always got there just a second too late.

The day Blaine had taken his first wobbly steps, Cooper had left the room for only a second to take off his muddy shoes. He'd walked in just in time to see Blaine plop back down on his diapered butt as their mother had cooed in delight. Just a second too late.

When the boy down the road had been swinging his brand new baseball bat around and had landed an accidental hit on the front tire of Blaine's new bicycle, Cooper had just been rounding the corner, only ten feet behind, but too late once again.

Last year when Blaine had gotten the lead in the school musical Cooper had sworn to make the long trek down from Yale, but a flat tire had hung him up. He'd gotten there right as the last curtain had fallen and Blaine's final ringing note had echoed around the auditorium. Too late again.

It was Monday morning now, two days after the call. He was exhausted from crying and not sleeping, but he couldn't seem to remember how to function without Blaine's cheerful face around their childhood home. As he shuffled into the kitchen, the smell of coffee, probably left over from the previous night, hit his nostrils and he quickly poured himself a large mug before dropping down into a chair at the ornate kitchen table.

The local newspaper, _The Lima News_, was open in front of him, folded over to the death notices and obituary section. With a pained noise, Cooper looked away from it. He knew it was today, but that didn't make it any easier to see his baby brother's name on that list. Especially when he was certain it was little more than an obligatory death notice that the newspaper printed for any resident who died. Their father had made it quite clear he wasn't going to write one, not after what Blaine had told them he was, not after that exact thing had ended with him in a coffin.

Still, as Cooper took shaky sips of cold coffee, his eyes couldn't help but drift over to look at the picture attached to it. Blaine's young, handsome face, more plump than it was now, was staring back at him. Cooper took in the black and white photograph. It was Blaine's school photo from last year – his sophomore year at McKinley High.

Despite the feeling that his insides were being put through a garbage disposal, Cooper pulled the paper closer, tracing his fingertip over Blaine's cheek. A wet patch appeared on Blaine's shoulder, and then another on his neatly styled hair. Cooper swiped at his eyes, and cleared his throat, looking around to make sure their father wasn't in the room. The kitchen was empty, though. The whole house was silence at five o'clock in the morning.

He turned back to the newspaper, a watery smile pulling at his lips as he took in the little bow tie twisted around Blaine's neck. Every time he saw one he immediately thought of Blaine. It was hard not to when he remembered the four year old that had refused to untangle himself from his calf until Cooper showed him how to tie one properly. Because Blaine didn't want the clip-on ties or their father to tie it up for him. No, he wanted to do it himself – the same way Cooper did.

His eyes scanned down past the photograph, and before Cooper could force himself to shove the paper away, he began to read.

_Blaine Devon Anderson, 16, of Lima passed away peacefully on Saturday, September 4, 1960, at Lima Medical Center._

_He was born on October 15, 1943 to James C. Anderson and Lyra B. Anderson of Lima._

_Blaine was a student at McKinley High School, where he was a prominent member of the boxing team, the choir, and the band. He was also the male lead soloist in his church choir. He was already set to continue his education at Julliard in August of 1962 with a full music scholarship._

_He is survived by his parents, James (49) and Lyra (41); his older brother, Cooper (27); and both his maternal and paternal grandparents._

_A memorial service will be held at 10 A.M. Monday, September 6, at Carmel Catholic Church. The family will be receiving friends later that evening at their home from 5 to 7 P.M. on Treebird Lane. The burial will be private._

Cooper stared long and hard at the short article. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, and his chest felt like a spiked ball was expanding in it. This wasn't _fair_. None of this should be happening. It was the first line that struck him the hardest, though. _Passed away peacefully_. He scoffed and tossed the paper onto the table top.

Blaine's death had been anything but peaceful. His mother must have written that. She'd been deluding herself into thinking it since he'd arrived at the hospital two days ago.

A sharp pang seared through his chest at the thought. His mother, not theirs anymore, _his_. Cooper's alone, because his brother – his baby brother – was dead.

Cooper stared down at the obituary again without really seeing it. Tears were clouding his eyes as he turned in his chair and tugged the door of the liquor cabinet open. A dark bottle of whiskey caught his attention. He yanked it free, slamming the little wooden door closed and turning back to the table. He struggled to pull the cork out for a few moments, finally popping it and pressing the smooth glass to his lips.

His baby brother was dead because he'd failed to protect him. He, Cooper, had failed to be there once again. Once again, he'd been too late. Only this time it wasn't for something monumental in Blaine's life, or to stop some kid from accidentally swinging a baseball bat on a street corner. This time he'd been too late to save Blaine from the harsh reality of their time.

Cooper would never forgive himself for being too late to say goodbye.

* * *

_43 years later..._

Kurt knew something bad was happening to his mother.

Months ago, his father had sat him down in a cold, colorless hospital waiting room after one of the scariest moments of his life. He'd explained that Kurt's mother was very sick and that was why she'd collapsed. At the time, Kurt hadn't really understood what he'd meant. He'd thought of it like that bad flu he'd had a few years ago when he'd done nothing but curl up in her arms for a week. But a week, and then a month, passed and she only started to look worse.

Now, five months later, with his aunt and grandparents here to "visit" and today even keep an eye on him while his father went by himself to the hospital where his mother had been moved, he thought he understood.

His mother was dying. Just like their fat, old cat had when Kurt was five. Just like his hamster had last spring. Something was going wrong inside of her that nobody knew how to fix and today his father had gone to say his own private goodbye. Kurt didn't know whether or not he wanted the same chance, or if he'd even get offered it. Instead of facing his tearful, broken father's return in a few hours, Kurt had run off to the nearby park, where his mother used to take him to play, to hide from all of them.

Kurt was surprised to find the little park empty, but after ten minutes of sitting on a swing by himself, he remembered it was a Wednesday morning. Everyone else was at school right now. He'd have the place to himself for a few hours at least. He looked around once more to make sure the place was really deserted. The last thing he wanted was for someone to see him crying all alone. An adult would think he was hurt or lost and bug him. The other kids would tease him for being a cry baby, but there was nobody around.

He stared down at his lap, and hugged himself tight as the tears started to build behind his eyes.

"Mind if I swing with you?"

Kurt's head shot up in alarm. He jerked so quickly he nearly toppled backwards off the swing, but a strong, big hand caught his and kept him upright.

"Watch it. You don't want to bust your head open."

Standing a few feet away from him, still clutching his hand tightly was a man – no, a teenage boy at least twice his age. Immediately, Kurt took in his neatly tamed curls and bright hazel eyes that reminded him of the princes he saw in Disney movies. He didn't know this boy – had never seen him at the park or even around town or at the mall with the other older kids – but something about him caught Kurt's interest, and felt almost... familiar, even if he was a stranger.

The boy gave him a bright, hopeful smile as he dropped onto the swing beside Kurt. Still uncertain, Kurt tugged his hand free, crossed his arms and legs, and turned his nose up at the boy.

"You're a _stranger_ without a name," Kurt declared matter-of-factly, trying to discreetly brush away the tears still lingering on his eyelashes.

The strange boy laughed softly at his words, and something about the sound made Kurt's insides feel bubbly. From the corner of his eye he looked this boy over again. His outfit was unlike anything Kurt had ever seen on the teenage boys around town. It reminded him of something from one of his mother's old record covers or magazines. This boy seemed cheerful and harmless enough, but Kurt definitely didn't know him, even in passing. He'd remember someone dressed like this.

"You look sad," the boy said gently, and Kurt glared over at him and sniffed.

"That's a stupid name," Kurt said snottily.

Another chuckle greeted his words.

"What?" The boy's eyes crinkled up and Kurt's stomach felt weird again. "That's not– oh. My name's Blaine."

"You're still a stranger," Kurt told him loftily. "I don't have time for _strangers_."

"Aw, come on," Blaine pouted. "Don't be so mean."

"I'm not being mean," Kurt retorted. "I'm being _smart_."

"Your mother's taught you well then," Blaine replied, and Kurt's chest twisted at his words.

Some part of his pain must have shown on his face, because Blaine's smile shrank and disappeared.

"Kurt," Kurt supplied after a few moments of silence. His voice was soft and timid. "My name's Kurt."

"It's very nice to meet you, Kurt who doesn't talk to strangers," Blaine replied, twirling his hand in the air as he bowed his head.

Despite himself Kurt giggled at the action. Maybe this Blaine guy was okay then, but the comment about his mother still weighed heavily on his mind. Before he could stop himself he blurted out what was on his mind so much these days.

"Have you ever known anyone who died?"

The fact that Blaine didn't seem surprised by his words felt a little weird to Kurt, but he shrugged it off as Blaine sighed. He quietly watched Blaine as the older boy turned his eyes over to the empty park.

"Yeah," he answered softly. "I know a lot of people who have died."

"Do you... do you think they really are happy after?" Kurt wondered desperately. "Will she really be watching over me?"

"She'll still love you, Kurt," Blaine replied gently. "Death can't stop that. Nothing can stop your mother from loving you."

"My– how did you know that?" Kurt demanded suspiciously.

"I know lots of things," Blaine said slyly. He paused and grasped Kurt's hand tightly once more. "But even if she's not here with you, she'll still be okay. Just because you can't see her every day or touch her doesn't mean you can't love her and that she isn't happy or doesn't love you... _where ever_ she is.

"I know it's hard right now," Blaine continued, reaching into his pocket and tugging out an old silver pocket watch. He flipped it open and glanced at it quickly. "It'll be hard for a long time even, but you'll always have her in here." Blaine poked Kurt in the chest, right over his heart. "Nobody can take her away from you, not even death, as long as you keep her alive in your heart."

"I– " Kurt paused as he stared up at the older boy in wonder. Blaine sounded so sure of himself, so positive that regardless of what happened his mother would be okay and love Kurt. He didn't understand it, but there was something about Blaine's voice when he'd spoken, some quality in his tone or in his posture and the set of his jaw that made Kurt trust him – believe him.

"Kurt! Kurt, are you out here? _Kurt!_"

His father's terrified voice echoed down the road and into the park. Kurt twisted around to stare out towards the street as Blaine squeezed his hand once more and let go.

"Go on," Blaine encouraged, dropping his watch back into his pocket. "I'll be here whenever you come back."

"But how will you know when– "

"Like I said, I know lots of things," Blaine repeated. A small, sad smile pulled up the corners of his mouth as he helped Kurt to his feet. "Hurry. Your dad sounds really worried."

"How did you kn– " But Kurt stopped himself as he remembered what Blaine had just said. He didn't know how Blaine knew these things, but for whatever reason he did. Maybe all older people knew stuff like that, or maybe his father's frantic voice had been kind of obvious. "See ya, Blaine," Kurt said, stumbling through the wood chips towards the road.

He looked back once more to find Blaine smiling and waving at him before his father came into view.

"Kurt? _Kurt!_ There you are! You had me worried sick!" Burt called out in relief, sprinting across the small park and scooping Kurt up into his arms.

"Daddy, I'm fine," Kurt assured him, wrapping his arms around his father's neck and twisting so that he could introduce Blaine to his father.

But the swing set was empty. There was nobody else in sight behind them and no sign of Blaine anywhere near the entrance. Kurt hadn't seen him rush past to get to the gate either, but he was gone, the swing still swaying from his presence.

For a single moment, he almost questioned his father about the mysterious boy and whether or not he'd seen him, but Burt would have stopped Blaine if he'd run past. He would have seen Kurt standing by him and talking to him when he'd turned the corner. But his father hadn't even mentioned the boy so Kurt decided not to either.

"Come on, son. We're... w- we're going to visit your mom, okay?" Burt mumbled, trying to sound reassuring and strong, but Kurt could hear the heartbreak in his voice.

Blaine's words floated through his head as Burt carried him towards the street.

_Nobody can take her away from you, not even death, as long as you keep her alive in heart._

"It'll be okay, Daddy," Kurt whispered, still dreading this potentially final visit, but feeling a little lighter. "We'll always have her love."


	2. Chapter 1: Distance Between

So, update, update, update! Monday as hoped for, too, so yay. Monday's are gonna become a thing unless I saw otherwise, mmkay?

All right, so there's another little time jump to start this, but after this it 's staying in the same time/year: Kurt's junior year at McKinley. We'll be hanging out there until the end, probably with several flashbacks along the way. And another note to make, yes, to the few people who caught it, Lyra w as intentionally made that young when she had Cooper. It really wasn't that uncommon given the time. All of my grandmother's sisters were off and married with a kid by about 15 since marriage was their only option for getting out from under their father 's rule since they lived in the middle of nowhere. Kinda like Lima. I'll probably have Blaine mention it at some point.

So, hmm... you'll probably have a lot of new questions with this one, though I promise all with be fleshed out/explained as the story unfolds. If you've got any questions you can always drop them in my tumblr ask and I'll answer even if it's just to say, "Can't say right now , but the story will explain." Yup, I think that's it for now. Enjoy and I'll see you next Monday!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 1: Distance Between**

_8 Years later..._

The taped knuckles of Blaine's left fist smacked against the plump punching bag swinging precariously from the ceiling. It was early, or would be if Time existed in the Between, and Blaine was running through the last of his morning boxing routine before he decided on how to spend the rest of his day.

_Smack! Pow!_

He kept up the rhythm, working vigorously through the last motions of his workout until sweat was stinging his eyes and the little pops of memory stopped buzzing in his head.

Every day he woke up and beat back the nightmares that had roused him.

Every day he hoped for a change, even though none had come.

Blaine had always thought it was funny that, even though his death had torn him from Time, he still had all the memories from his life. There was still an unchallenged sense of who he was and what had happened to him, and every time he thought about it, his head pounded like his fists did every morning. Sometimes he hated the attachment he still had to his life, and some days he wanted nothing more than to forget all of it. His parents, the friends he'd made and lost, his hobbies and likes, the future in New York City he'd been working towards, even Cooper.

No matter how much time passed, in his current reality or in his old one, he still missed his older brother.

With a grunt, Blaine slammed his right fist against the punching bag, catching it with his arms when it swung back towards him like a pendulum, and holding on as he breathed in deeply. Even fifty years later, it was still bizarre to know he was breathing without any purpose. It was just a natural instinct he still followed, and part of the reason he was stuck here in the first place. Like so many other aspects of his current reality, it was just old habits from a different place, one where he'd still grown and changed and wasn't stagnant as a teenage boy always one month shy of his seventeenth birthday.

His brain still wanted to be alive, still wanted to deny the attack that had severed his connection to growth, change, and mortality. So he breathed, allowing his unconscious bodily functions to happen as they always had, despite his body being molecularly different without the physicality of Time to ground him. Everyone else who lingered here with him did the same until they sorted out whatever aspect of their old life needed self-acceptance and understanding.

Until he faced his uncertainty, fears, and nightmares he was going to linger in the Between, never moving Beyond and never capable of suturing himself back into Time now that he'd left. There was no returning to the world he'd left, not permanently or into the same life. Time had journeyed forward without him and, after fifty years, there was nobody and nothing to return to. He could journey back to guide and help others as he weaved a path towards soothing his own demons, but never for long and certainly not in a real way.

Time wasn't a part of his existence anymore and without it he didn't have life. He was granted assignments and tasks that allowed him to briefly reenter the Timestream in the Present, but it was painful and unnatural for him to do so. No matter what, Time always caught them, and when it did he got thrown right back out.

Panting and sweating, Blaine stepped away from the punching bag and over to the corner where he kept a few towels by his sink.

The accommodations in the Between were remarkably similar to the one's he'd left behind and part of that, he knew, was because everyone else that was here had also come from Time. This plane of existence was created and built by people who had been pushed out of Time for reasons they didn't fully understand yet and so they brought their knowledge with them, trying to establish some sense of normalcy while they figured out how to move beyond themselves. Each and every one of them in his west-central Ohio district understood and knew what sinks, beds, and kitchens were. They all had similar timelines and therefore pictured similar settings to live in, even if there was no reason to eat, bathe, or sleep here. That didn't prevent most of them from partaking in their old habits, but it did make Blaine feel silly on occasion despite the simple and familiar comfort it offered.

In a lot of ways, Blaine's part of the Between was no different than the area of Ohio he'd left behind. There were streets and buildings and people, but there were no vehicles and distance wasn't something established and necessary for this plane of existence. His eyes might still deceive him into believing that the walk from his room to the office where he was trained and given assignments was several blocks, but it took only a few seconds to get there, regardless of his pace and stride.

That was another huge adjustment he'd had to make when he'd woken up in a dull looking room with stained carpets and filthy walls fifty years ago. Time was measured here with the usual clocks and gadgets, but it didn't actually exist or define anything in this reality. It was used because it was something everyone already understood and because it defined the place most of the workers returned to. Each of them had their own story, problem, or struggle that had led them here after death. They'd all been full human beings on Time's plane of existence and now they were as dead as he was, waiting and learning and hoping to find their way Beyond.

Nobody in the Between understood exactly what Beyond meant, only that it was meant to be peaceful, a better place and perhaps another life to live once they cut the last ties from their old ones. The people that did move Beyond never came back, so Blaine had no way on knowing which, if any of those, it was for sure, but he hoped it meant something better and happier than the nightmares bouncing around in his skull and the hideous, red scar that marred the skin on his chest.

As he set the towel down, Blaine tugged his thin, sweaty shirt off and glanced into the mirror, lips curling slightly at the skinny sixteen year old that stared back at him.

Even if he worked out for days without pause, his body never changed. His shoulders remained boney and stretched looking, while his chest and stomach looked like they'd been on the verge of filling out with muscles but had never had the chance. It was the scar along his right side, jagged as it crossed over several ribs, that always caught his, and everyone else's, attention. The mark had no semblance of ever being healed, and when Blaine considered that it had still been a gaping, nasty wound gushing blood and soaking his clothing when he'd died, he thought himself lucky that his skin had patched itself together at all.

There was a knock at the door then, and Blaine half turned as a head popped in. It was Brian, a man who lived a few rooms down and was another agent who jumped in and out of Time to aide his own advancement from here.

"Hey, Blaine, the big guy wants to see ya at headquarters," he said without preamble, looking nervous. It was uncharacteristic and caught Blaine's attention immediately. Something was up if it had Brian twitching; something big.

"I'm not in trouble again, am I?" Blaine wondered vaguely, heading to his closet and tugging another shirt out.

It wasn't uncommon these days for Blaine to be called in for not doing something or forgetting to go somewhere. He'd been here long enough to do everything twice, and while it gave him a lot of experience, it never gave him any leeway with his assigned boss, a man he'd always been at odds with for as far back as Blaine could remember. As he pulled his shirt on, he heard the door snap shut softly and found Brian leaning against it, looking jittery.

"No, no, I mean, trouble doesn't do much here, anyway, but– " Brian bit his lip, eyes bright and it wasn't fear or worry in his gaze, but hope.

The sight made Blaine's skin tingle in a way it hadn't in over a decade. They had a mission for him, a long-term one and not the rinky-dink ones he'd messed with since his last stint at McKinley in the early nineties.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't enjoy the short missions, some of them were his favorite memories from the last fifty years, but they were busy work while he waited for Time to move forward enough for his return to the same location to go unnoticed. There had been dozens in the 1960s when the Civil Rights movement had been happening, and others just focused on helping kids his own age with personal issues, school work, and family problems. Most of them were simple, met to be little brief jumps into Time for a few minutes to several days. A lot of them hadn't even involved interaction with the main person, just his guiding hand behind the scenes, helping along what needed a push.

Others had been more one-on-one as his mission with a young boy had been several years ago. That had been one of Blaine's hardest and best achievements. He still found himself wondering about Kurt, the magnetic little boy that had a snarky wit and a bright smile most days. Something special had always seemed to hang in the air around the eight-year-old, and at the end of each jump, Blaine found himself dreading having to leave, wishing he could stay and make sure Kurt didn't have another nightmare, and then regretting the bitter, simple, and necessary lies that he had to tell about getting home to dinner with parents he didn't have.

Blaine had hung around for several months for that particular assignment, mostly just for a handful of hours every afternoon, until Kurt seemed ready to handle his mother's death on his own. They'd even had a tea party on Kurt's front lawn a few weeks after his mother's funeral, when Kurt's father had been too sick with grief to leave the house. It was easily one of Blaine's better memories, from his own life or his time here.

"Blaine, I- I got there earlier than I was supposed to and it... I think this is your last one if you do it right," Brian whispered, hugging himself tightly and looking both sad and thrilled at the prospect. "The kid you're helping has a history like yours or something– I dunno, I couldn't hear everything, but– you've been here so long and– here," Brian finished, reaching behind himself and handing Blaine a thick marigold envelope with his name stamped across it. "They said to give you your mission assignment and have you head over immediately."

"All right," Blaine agreed, reaching out for the envelope. As soon as it brushed his fingers, a thrill ran through him that he couldn't force down.

This could be the last time he ever did this. As much as he enjoyed helping the people who were still alive, it was painful always going back and knowing he would never be a full part of that again. Having the one chance and life he still dreamed about surrounding every crevasse of his body and seeping into his skin and senses was as close to torture as Blaine could handle. Watching other people experience life and firsts, from helping one girl ace her classes to watching others fall in love, wasn't easy when his own heart still yearned to live and have those simple, irreplaceable joys.

But he never would. He was dead and left in a static, lifeless place. The world kept living and Time moved on without him, uncaring and unknowing, leaving him just as he was, unmarked expect for the scar that reminded him that Time had terminated his necessity.

"Good luck, Blaine," Brian said earnestly as Blaine shook his head a little to pull himself out of his thoughts and started to open the envelope. "I really hope this is it for you. If any of us deserve to get Beyond, it's you."

"So do you," Blaine countered. "You've done a lot, too, Brian. Don't belittle it."

"I guess," Brian muttered, scratching his neck and staring down at Blaine. "I always feel like you're so much young than me even though I know you've been here twice as long," he added, eyes crinkling up a little as Blaine smiled softly. Brian had been almost forty when he'd died and here in the Between for almost ten years. "Even now, I forget how little appearances matter."

"Well, it's a good thing to keep in mind for when you head back," Blaine reminded him as he tugged the packet of papers out. "Most of them have no idea how little it really matters and that it doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, it's weird to realize how much time we wasted on shit that doesn't matter," Brian agreed with a laugh. "Makes me wish– " He shook his head sadly a minute later and patted Blaine on the shoulder, leaving the thought unfinished. Blaine didn't need to hear the rest to know what was meant. Like so many others, Brian wished he'd lived differently, still had chances to do things and make sure the people he'd had in his life knew how important they had been to him. "Good luck, Blaine. You're going to do great for this kid, I know it."

Blaine nodded absentmindedly as Brian let himself out. He dropped down onto the bed in the corner and started scanning over the first few pages on the file. There was the usual basics for the mission: dates, location, housing in the Present and the person who would be accompanying him since he was a minor in that world. Most of it was just logistics he'd peruse later after his briefing. The information of real importance and intrigue was the actual guts of the mission, the details listing the living people involved and what sort of situation he was being assigned to help out with.

As he set the first pages aside, the main person's file was revealed and his heart leapt into his throat when he read over the old name. Blaine had thought he'd never see it again when he opened one of these. A repeated person had never happened before in all his fifty years and finding it now was shocking. His eyes roamed over the neatly printed letters as his mind tried to make sense of what he was reading and what it could possibly mean for the boy he remembered.

_Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_

* * *

Cameron detested waiting. It was one of the things he'd hoped would be eliminated from the Between when everything had first been explained to him, yet it had the unfortunate ability to still exist even in a place only abstractly structured by the idea of a linear progression. Even without real time and change, he still had to wait over and over, and more often than not it was on the same young man.

Blaine Anderson was unlike most of the cases he worked with for a number of reasons. He was his youngest worker by biological age, but easily several decades older than the others, despite his youthful face and teenage body. Most people were in the Between for fifteen to twenty years on average, close to half were even less than that. Cameron had been there for almost thirty-three. He was another rare case of a long struggle he was finally starting to overcome. It wasn't easy to accept that the worst of yourself had been reinforced by your own stubbornness for entirely unfound and wrong reasons.

All of the cases and workers Cameron was assigned to oversee involved similar people in west-central Ohio, namely anyone of a sexuality that he had once defined as filthy and vile in his life. The majority of them were young, in their twenties and thirties, even a few late teens, except for Blaine.

He was a rare exception, having the mental strength to still want more after death and not being resigned to giving up and moving on before he'd materialized here. Most boys his age couldn't have handled it well enough to make it here; most would have skipped the Beyond on this life and moved on to another, new life instead of forcing a broken mind and body through such a struggle. Blaine also hadn't ended his life at his own hand either, which was the case with most of Cameron's cases. Over half of them had parents or grandparents much like Cameron had been in his life. They'd given up on the world they were in, one that was repeatedly telling them how wrong their feelings and ability to love was until it had been too much to take. Once a soul took so much damage, there was nothing, not even a long journey in the Between, that could help mend them.

For Cameron, it had taken years in the Between to finally see the truth of himself and why he'd been given an assignment he'd initial protested, but he knew now, even if it was only through silent admissions to himself, that he had been a homophobic bigot. He'd said and done terrible things to the few people in his life that had trusted him with that deepest secret. First his best friend of twenty years and then later his grandson, who had taken the brunt of his disgust and ridicule. That was why he'd been dislodged to the Between: to learn how wrong he'd been and make things right with the one person he still could.

Blaine; the grandson he'd thought he'd lost to sin over fifty years ago, and the one he'd lost to death less than six months after. The young man who had guided him through his first hours here and made sure he was okay on his own. And the only thanks Cameron had offered at the time was a barely contained sneer at the brush of the boy's hand against his arm when he'd stumbled.

Yet his grandson was remarkable in a number of ways and had always been a joy for Cameron, at least until his confession at the end of his sophomore year of high school. Cameron would never forget it – the disappointment and disgust that had flared up in the pit of his stomach, crashing through his veins like a tidal wave until he'd tossed the boy from his house and refused to acknowledge him afterwards. The same feeling still surged through him when he remembered that day, only now the loathing was directed at himself.

With a deep sigh, Cameron turned in his plushy desk chair, resting his elbow on the arm of it and his chin on his knuckles as he stared at the monitors in front of him. They were much like computers, according to his newest generation of workers, though there was no electrical power source or anything remotely mechanical about the glass screens. They had always been there and would always be there from what he understood, cycling through millions of clips of information in an endless stream from Time.

He knew someone had once figured out how to tap into Time for the benefit of those stuck in the Between and that, until the moment, these had been created anyone who found themselves here was stuck, but with them and the discovery of how to rupture, people had begun learning and moving to their individual Beyonds.

It was the same thing Blaine would start today and the thought made Cameron's heart sink.

As much as he liked to think he'd made everything up to his grandson since his arrival here three decades ago, Cameron knew he'd yet to even come close.

Blaine was one of the best after fifty years of service. He was incredible with anyone they placed him with and had only had a few minor speed bumps in the beginning that were typical of a newcomer, especially with a traumatic history. That was before Cameron had arrived here and had his entire understanding of an afterlife flopped over on its head. There had been moments of harmless trouble, of course, silly little pranks typical of a teenager and several disgruntled fights between himself and the young man, but they'd always fought even before they'd arrived here and been assigned to work together.

His fingers began tapping on the glass plate that served as a monitor, scrolling through the countless missions the young man had accomplished and the growth he'd had since his traumatic arrival in 1960. So much achievement, so much talent and selflessness on his part without any idea of the Beyond he would find himself in if this last mission went well. All because of a simple, solitary match – the last for Blaine in this world and the only one the other boy had compatibility with.

It had been a relief and a terrifying realization for Cameron when Kurt Hummel's marker had stopped spinning two days ago. He'd had his hopes that it would ever since he'd first looked into Blaine's file thirty years ago, but matches like this were rare, especially with such a distance between them. There was no actual proof, but Cameron was certain the match was the reason Blaine had died so abruptly. Much like Kurt's marker, Blaine's must have stopped not long before he died, and when his only soulmate had been a boy born decades after him, Time had booted him to a safe zone, the Between, until they could meet fifty years later without a bizarre age gap.

Cameron's gaze shifted towards the second monitor where Kurt Hummel's file was open and the edges were still flashing a bright yellow to announce that his marker had finally established its soul's connection. It was a daunting mission to hand over to anyone. Any outcome was possible, but Cameron knew what was meant to happen. He had no idea how Blaine would handle the situation, though he hoped for the best and trusted the boy to make the right decisions and help Kurt overcome the bullies and taunts that plagued him. With any luck, Blaine would find the courage within himself and within Kurt to get him through the next nine months.

This would easily be the most difficult mission of Blaine's time here, with dire consequences if he failed. Cameron glanced at the Rupture capsule in the far corner of his office, and the two chairs waiting there for Blaine in a few days time. He only hoped that Blaine's return from this last one didn't fill both seats. It was an impossibly real chance given everything that could go wrong before June.

A knock tapped against the door and before Cameron could call for the person to enter, the door opened and Blaine appeared, slightly flushed and sweaty from one of his routine workouts, but with his last mission's file in hand and a calm expression on his face.

"Good afternoon, sir," Blaine greeted, his voice even and formal.

It was his usual tone with Cameron and whereas it had once filled the older man with pride, these days it only made him clamp down on the urge to flinch. His own ideas and standoffishness had given Blaine the understanding that their relationship was always going to be at arm's length. after knowing each other for almost sixty-seven years Cameron couldn't bring himself to change it. He wouldn't even know where to start or how to address the subject. That was why he'd been sent here and stuck for over three decades. His grandson meant everything to him, but as he struggled to accept him, he also wrestled with how to form any of his love into words.

His biggest regret would always be missing out on the chance to have a real, loving relationship with his youngest grandson. Even with this second chance in the Between he still couldn't manage to let his own pride go enough to let it happen.

"Have you read over the file?" Cameron asked instead of saying any of the phrases he'd worded and re-worded in his head for the last thirty years.

"I skimmed the basics," Blaine offered, taking his place in the seat opposite Cameron and setting the file down on his thighs. "There wasn't a set of goals," Blaine added after a moment, looking confused at the information's absence. "I'm not entirely sure what's expected of me."

Cameron watched the boy closely for several minutes, trying to decide on the best way to explain how this last mission would work. It was standard in cases like this one, when a person in the Between made it long enough to meet one of their rare matches, that no information was given on the actual assignment they were meant to complete. It was something they had to navigate on their own, much like everyday life, without any real directions for what to say or do.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more specific on the matter," Cameron decided slowly, gauging Blaine's slightly surprised reaction at his words. "This... Blaine, this is going to be your last mission. What happens with it, with you, and with the people you interact with is up to you."

If anything, Blaine only looked more confused, and even a little overwhelmed at the concept. "But... there _are_ expectations of what I should accomplish, right? Even if they're hidden."

"There are," Cameron agreed, "but it's up to you to figure this one out." He paused as Blaine processed this, watching his eyes flicker to the screens Cameron still had open.

"Is there anything you _can_ tell me?" Blaine pressed, still looking lost and, for once, nervous.

"I– " Cameron paused again, watching his grandson closely. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he still didn't know how to say, but he couldn't force the unfathomable words out. "Trust your instincts. Do what's _right_, not just for them but for yourself. This is your last mission if everything goes well, Blaine, and you know what that entails."

"Facing it," Blaine echoed hollowly. Even now he still wilted at the mentions of what had landed him here. Part of Cameron wanted to call this whole thing off, to protect Blaine from having to really work his way through his own fears and painful experiences, but as his eyes fell on Kurt Hummel's face he knew he couldn't.

Blaine was the only person who could refuse this mission. It was his choice if he didn't feel ready for this, and Cameron knew he wouldn't turn it down. Not when Kurt's name was on the file. His grandson had always gone the extra mile to help a friend. This boy needed Blaine in his life desperately if he was going to make it through the next year. They each needed each other in countless ways that only they would be able to define.

"You've prepared for this mission for half a century," Cameron reminded him. "You'll do fine. I have every bit of faith in your abilities."

The uncertainty still lingered in Blaine's eyes before he averted his gaze to the file on his lap. Cameron couldn't imagine how daunting such an assignment was. He'd never been sent back to work with anyone, his assignment had been entirely confined to the Between, helping younger people, and then sitting back and watching as they discovered their strengths and merits, and especially as they found acceptance for being who they were.

"His soul marker stopped," Blaine said slowly, his gaze coming back up as he met Cameron's eyes. "The page in the file had a check by it, but when I tried to access it, it said I was blocked, just like I am with my own."

He'd noticed then. Cameron wasn't surprised. Blaine was typically very thorough with his cases and did his research well.

"It stopped two days ago," Cameron said simply. Then he paused before the lie he knew was necessary if Blaine was going to go into this without any defined idea of what would hopefully happen. "It's not important to the case."

A slow, careful nod was directed at him. For a moment Cameron thought Blaine didn't believe him. His eyes were narrowed and calculating as he watched his grandfather, but then he seemed to accept Cameron's answer as truthful and pushed the information aside.

"Is there anything else?" Blaine asked after a moment.

Cameron watched him through the glass screen that had Kurt Hummel's file open, taking in the strong set of his jaw and the contemplative hazel eyes. He was ready; scared, but undoubtedly ready for this. For the next nine months, he would be on his own, discovering the life he'd lost and a plethora of new experiences he'd given up on ever having. Even though he regretted how miserably he still failed when it came to their relationship, Cameron was overwhelmingly proud of his grandson and knew that nobody deserved this more than him.

"Make sure you have your cover stories memorized and one set up for questions from the staff," he said. "There's a few people who might recognize you from your last stint at McKinley, the librarian and a few teachers mostly. Everything else is in the file. We've set your Rupture for the fourth," he informed Blaine, who nodded swiftly and climbed to his feet. "Make sure you look over the era information this time," Cameron called after him. "The last thing we need is you bopping around saying everything's groovy again."

"That was one time– "

"It alienated you from half the student body," Cameron cut in sharply. "If you hadn't passed it off as part of working on that Glee Club disco routine– "

"I'll read it over, all right?" Blaine assured him, rolling his eyes dramatically. "_Thoroughly._"

"Good, see that you do," Cameron replied, fighting the twitch pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You're free to go now. Be here at six o'clock sharp on Friday."

"Yes, sir."

Blaine turned back towards the door, hands already flipping the file back open and scanning over the pages of information. He was so focused, so determined already to do this right without even knowing what was expected of him. His grandson was an incredible young man, astute and confident, but still not entirely aware of himself and his capabilities or the depths of love his heart could hold.

"And Blaine?"

His voice rang out before he really knew what he wanted to say. Blaine paused in the doorway, looking uncertain at the rough voice calling out to him. It was unheard of for Cameron to break his formal tone with his grandson, even if he'd managed it with other people here, and Blaine was clearly startled, maybe even hopeful.

"I– " He meant to say everything then, to tell his grandson how much he loved and cherished him, how proud he was of the person he had become and all of the people he had helped, but the words curled around his tongue and sprung back down his throat, still too fearful of what it meant to open his heart. "Good luck, Blaine."

"Thank you, sir," Blaine murmured, gaze dropping to the desk in front of Cameron.

Cameron watched him disappear, another wave of loathing crashing through him at his own cowardice. He had so many things to say, so many apologies to make, but his fear of never receiving Blaine's forgiveness made the thought of broaching the subject unbearable. If Blaine never forgave him, Cameron wouldn't blame him, but his own heart wouldn't survive the wounds all over again. Not when they were still as deep as Blaine's.

As much as Cameron didn't know how to say goodbye, he knew he must before this was all over. A proper one, too. Not like the last one he'd given Blaine. His grandson deserved so much more than a door slammed in his face.


	3. Chapter 2: A Silent Son

A/N: Another Monday arrives! So we're (finally) checking in with Kurt and Burt now in the present year, 2010. Rest of the story will follow a linear progression of this school year and POVs will be flip-flopping through, two per chapter unless otherwise noted. Um, they'll mostly be Blaine, Kurt, Burt, and Carole, though Cameron's in 3 and then after that he'll pop up every 4-6 chapters since he's sort of a background story to the main Kurt and Blaine one.

So enjoy the update and I'm going to go enjoy the first nice, warm day in months before the pollen gets crazy! And as always any questions can we send to my ask box on tumblr (there's a url for my askbox on my profile now since my blog theme doesn't show it in all browsers for some weird reason)!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 2: A Silent Son**

Several garage bags ballooned around Kurt as he landed in the dumpster in the McKinley parking lot. A few seconds later his vintage jacket and well-cared for leather bag were hurdled over the top, landing heavily on his stomach as his jacket flapped down over his face, blocking the early morning sunlight from view. There was the sound of several slapping hands, the jocks congratulating themselves with their usual high-fives and bizarre handshakes, before the lid was slammed shut with a thundering crash.

"Why don't you ask your imaginary friend to help you outta there, fairy?"

It was the hockey jocks instead of the football players that had tormented him his first two years at McKinley. That was the only real benefit from his father and Finn Hudson's mother dating: the football team left him alone so Finn wouldn't have to face Burt's wrath. The two teams didn't get along at all anymore now that a handful of the football boys were in Glee Club. It still didn't save him from all of the football guys, of course, but the whole team didn't corner him anymore. There were two in particular that still shoved him around when they could, but for the most part his bullying situation had become a little more tolerable since their parents became romantically involved.

A chorus of appreciative chuckles reverberated around Kurt as he laid there in the filth and stench, waiting for the echoing thump of several fists against the side his head was next to. It was meant to startle him, but after three years of being tossed into dumpsters Kurt didn't even flinch at the sharp sound vibrating against his skull.

He counted to ten in his head slowly, listening as the jocks slowly wandered off in search of their next target. The chatter of his other classmates met his ears through the dumpster's thick sides, shouts of excited laughter and a dozen female voices squealing greetings and gushing about new hairstyles and clothing their friends had gotten over the summer.

None of it really mattered to Kurt. There was nobody here that wanted to share moments like that with him. Even in Glee Club, the only group he'd dared to join or been remotely interested in, the other members kept their distance. They all knew his reputation; that he was the crazy kid who'd apparently gone mad after his mother died eight years ago.

He hadn't, of course, but that was the rumor that clung to him like tar. The boy with the high voice and weird clothes had created an imaginary friend and spent years insisting he was real. Even his father had gotten fed up with Kurt's insistence that Blaine Anderson was a real, sixteen year old boy that had met him at the park every afternoon in the months following his mother's death.

Nobody had believed him as the months flew by, and, while they'd been tolerant of his grieving for a while, it had stopped when autumn arrived. Ms. Bates, his third grade teacher, had set him up with the school guidance counselor for prattling on animatedly about Blaine and all of their talks instead of bothering to make any real friends. Ms. Marcus had spent hours out of every week trying to get him to repeat phrases like, "Blaine is not a real boy. I made him up" until he'd screamed at her and fled the room in furious tears. From there, he'd been set up with a real, professional counselor that dealt with grief and young children when his father had demanded the school stop sending him to her. Even in his heartbroken, grieving state, Burt had still known when something was doing more damage than good for his son.

At first his father had been fine with it, even then. He'd known Kurt struggled to fit in at school and had been incredibly close to his mother. If that was how he dealt with her death, then he'd been fine with it as Burt had reassured him repeatedly. But for every time Burt told him it was okay to have an imaginary friend to talk to about his feelings, Kurt had firmly told his father that Blaine was real. Even his therapist had been overwhelmed by his conviction of Blaine's existence. It had worried her, and in turn had worried Burt even more. It had all been overwhelming for him on top of his wife's death, and eventually he told Kurt to stop insisting that Blaine was real when Kurt couldn't even show the boy to any of them.

His father's harsh, angry words had done it more than anything. Kurt stopped mentioning Blaine after that. At one point, he'd stopped talking all together.

But Blaine _had_ been real. It was the one certainty Kurt had always kept bottled away in his heart. The glass might be cracked and foggy, but Blaine was there, traces of his kind words and comfort still lingering in Kurt's skin and mind. He'd been real and genuine and his embraces were some of the safest, warmest ones Kurt could recall from his childhood. He'd made everything feel right and okay, and eight years later, Kurt wished more than anything that he could still convince himself that everyone else was wrong and that he wasn't crazy for still being so sure that Blaine was real.

Everything in his life pointed to the exact opposite and most days Kurt wondered if he really _had_ made it all up in his head. It definitely felt like it after eight years with only a handful of dimming memories and a handsome face his mind couldn't escape.

As the warning bell echoed across the lot, Kurt sat up and plucked various pieces of trash and rotten fruit peels off himself. He took his time, pushing the lid open and climbing out carefully so that he didn't cut his hand like he had back in June. The last thing he needed once he left here today was his father's worries or suspicion.

It was the first day of his Junior year. Tardies wouldn't been counted until next week at least. For now he could take all the time he needed to clean himself off and change into something less smelly. It was a habit that he brought at least two outfits in case he was tossed in a dumpster or slushied inside the building throughout the day.

Kurt made it inside with the last stragglers, turning down a side hall and immediately getting barreled into a row of lockers by the two football players that refused to leave him alone. If his father had known, Burt wouldn't have stood for it. He'd come into the school raging and hollering until Kurt wasn't getting pummeled every other class change, but only making the voiced taunts worse. There was no escaping what was thrown at him daily, and his father coming in to fight his battles for him wouldn't do much good at all.

There was a lot Burt Hummel didn't know about his son. Kurt tried to convince himself that he preferred it that way. Their relationship was rocky enough for him without the added trouble he faced at school daily.

"Watch where you're prancing, fag," Azimio spat as Karofsky slammed his fist against the lockers next to Kurt's head and chuckled as he flinched.

Nobody else at this school managed to get a knee-jerk reaction out of Kurt like these two. He didn't know what it was, but something about their taunting and teasing had always felt different, more sinister than the others, who were just filling stereotypes until graduation and adulthood. They made a point of searching him out and making his life hell, whereas the others did when they saw him or formed routines like morning dumpster tosses.

The two backed away, high-fiving each other and hooting as Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed a shaky, deep breath. In a minute they'd be gone and he could collect himself. In a minute he'd be alone without anyone who noticed him.

"Go spread your fair dust somewhere else," Karofsky called back to him as they walked away. "I bet Hell will love your redecorating."

As the final bell rang, Kurt slid to the floor, mindless of which hallway he was in or even where he was in relation to his locker and his homeroom. The first day back was always rough, especially on his body that had finally healed up over the summer. Mentally, it was difficult to fall back into shutting himself off so completely that none of it bothered him anymore. Because it _did_ bother him, regardless of what his outward reaction was.

Being alone, scared, and harassed hurt in more ways than Kurt could name, even more than not being able to be open and honest with anyone about who he was inside.

That was something his father didn't know, something Kurt had told nobody, but that was still common knowledge in the halls of McKinley. His sexuality was his deepest, most desperate secret, one that Burt could never be told about. His father had been just like these jocks when he was their age and he'd react just as badly now. Burt Hummel was a good man, but he was also a guy's guy and he expected Kurt to be the same. He didn't hug or kiss or get into Kurt's personal space. He'd stopped doing that when Kurt was younger, around junior high, just like the other boys' fathers had. Kurt couldn't bear the thought of disappointing him any further when his entire life had been nothing but letting his father down and never meeting his expectations.

Miserably, Kurt sat his bag on his lap and unclipped the leather flap to pull out a pair of fresh pants. He'd change in the bathroom and scrub himself off as best he could. Hopefully nobody else would be in there this early on the first day. He wouldn't be so lucky after this week. Jocks flooded the bathrooms in the mornings during homeroom, skipping or doping up before the real classes began after the announcements. They'd be everywhere he turned and there was nobody who cared enough to stop them.

The Glee Club would brush him off or look to Finn to stop it.

Finn would shrug helplessly because his own reputation meant more to him than saving his mother's boyfriend's son from bruises, scrapes, and humiliation.

And the teachers... they were the worst of the lot. They'd smile and offer him a ear and if he dared to be honest with his fears and the pain and ridicule he suffered, they'd tell him he must be confusing their playful or accidental shoves for real ones.

_Boys horse around with each other and roughhouse, Kurt. That's just how it is._

He closed his eyes at the memory. It was one that still clung to the fringes of his mind from sixth grade when the worst of it had started. That was the only time he'd ever gone to a teacher about it, and he'd refused to give the idea any sort of serious consideration after that.

They weren't here to help and make this environment safe, regardless of what they said or what the laws asserted. Nobody cared to help and in turn, Kurt didn't care to let anyone in.

What he really needed was a friend. Even if it was just someone to suffer through the torment with, it would make things easy to bear until he was out of Lima for good. Someone who understood his life without judgment and listened and cared would be wonderful. That was never going to happen – not until he left Lima for good, at least. With a tearful shake of his head, Kurt pulled his legs up to his chest and focused on breathing evenly and slowly.

There were still seven more hours of today and he was already cracking...

If he was perfectly honest with himself what he really wanted more than anything was Blaine. The boy who had always understood and cared without knowing anything about him. The young man who had always greeted him with a kind smile and a warm hand to hold his. Blaine would understand, would care when nobody else seemed to. But Blaine...

If he was real, then Kurt would never find him now. Blaine would be married and probably starting a family. He wouldn't even remember him if he was real. And if he'd been made up in Kurt's head, then Kurt didn't understand why he didn't appear anymore when that was all he truly wanted.

After several minutes of pulling himself together, Kurt stood up, brushing his pants off, and headed for the nearest bathroom.

He probably was crazy if he was still wishing for something imagined instead of finding a real friend. It wasn't any surprise that nobody wanted him around when he couldn't even be fully honest with himself.

* * *

Date Night was Burt's second favorite evening of the week, only topped by Family Dinners on Fridays. It was still early in the afternoon, but Burt and Carole had both miraculously gotten the same day off and had decided to take advantage of the time by spending the day together. They'd gone shopping at the mall, looking at clothes for Carole, new cleats for Finn, several scarves for Kurt, and then spent several hours in an old record store, sharing their favorite oldies with each other.

It had been a good day overall, and while Burt was tired from all the walking, he was happy. Meeting Carole had been a surprising coincidence last year at a parent-teacher conference night. They'd known each other before that – Burt had originally met her at Lima Medical when his late wife had been sick, but that had only been in passing and he'd barely remembered her until he'd had to return there with Kurt to see a psychologist. Even then, the last thoughts on his mind had been dating someone new, but the moment they'd bumped into each other at the refreshments table last year, they'd clicked. It was different than what he'd shared with Elizabeth, and different from what she'd shared with Christopher, her late husband, but what they had worked and they understood each other in ways nobody else really did after their spouses' deaths.

"Santa Fe Chicken sound all right to you?" Carole chirped as they set their bags down on the kitchen table. "I know Kurt won't eat anything that's really terrible, but he always seems to like the different chicken I make... "

At the mention of his son, Burt glanced up at the her and paused. Kurt liked Carole well enough, but... He shook his head resignedly. His loved his son dearly, but Kurt was so shut off from everybody. While Burt thought he knew where a lot of that stemmed from, he didn't want to push Kurt. When his son was ready to talk, he hoped he'd come to him.

"That sounds wonderful," Burt agreed after a moment.

He watched her start pulling various vegetables and ingredients out of the cabinets and refrigerator. She knew his kitchen as well as her own, maybe even better since his house was bigger and they spent more time there. Sometimes he liked to imagine the four of them – himself, Carole, Kurt, and Carole's son, Finn – all hanging out in there while Kurt and Carole cooked something delicious and Finn kept trying to sneak bites before it was done. It was a fantasy for now, especially with the distance between their sons and between Kurt and _everyone,_ but someday... someday he hoped they could all have that. Even if it was years from now and the boys were only back from college and their own lives for a visit.

Carole smiled brightly at him as she turned towards the island and reached for a searing pan on the hanging rack. Before she could raise up on her toes to grab it, Burt unhooked it and moved around the island to set it on the stove for her.

"Thank you," she murmured, arms sliding around him as she leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and gentle, but even now it made him feel more alive than he had in years. His life was a little lighter with Carole's presence.

As they started cooking, Burt and Carole talked about how their week had been so far, and wondered about how their sons had done their first day back at school. Finn was the first they talked about, but only because it was easier to figure him out and know that his day had undoubtedly been nice. He'd no doubt seen all of his friends again, shared classes with them and his girlfriend, Quinn Fabray, and probably hadn't even thought about dreading the day, even though he had football practice until six.

"I just hope he remembers to take his cleats off before he walks in," Carole sighed in exasperation. "Every year with him it's the same thing the entire first week. Mud and dirt all over the entry way..."

Burt chuckled and dropped the last piece of chicken into the marinade they'd concocted. "He's a good kid, Carole, even if he tracks dirt into the house."

Another smile was flashed at him, softer and more intimate than before. That was one of the best things about their relationship, despite the differences in their sons they both loved each of the boys and genuinely cared about them. After another kiss, she turned back to the vegetables and continued chopping.

He knew what she was going to ask moments before she did, because Finn was a finished conversation now. The only boy left was his, and Kurt... Kurt was always difficult to talk about. He was even more difficult to talk _to_, but Burt tried to let him have his space. He knew Kurt didn't have it easy at school, and had a lot he was trying to sort out with himself, even if his son didn't say it.

"How rough do you think Kurt's day was?" she asked quietly, and from her posture Burt knew her smile was gone.

It was a fair question. Even if Kurt didn't tell him anything anymore, Burt wasn't oblivious to the teasing his son no doubt endured at school. Even in elementary school, Kurt had been picked on by the other boys for how he dressed and for wanting to play with the girls and their dolls. Burt was entirely too aware of how lonely his son was and that he had no real friends to spend time with or relate to.

"Probably not great," Burt finally acknowledged, sighing heavily as he leaned back against the counter. "I love him more than anything, but sometimes... I just wish he'd talk to me, Carole. About _anything_."

"Maybe you should talk to _him_," she said pointedly. It was a suggestion she'd been making more and more as they'd gotten to know each other better and had realized she couldn't get through to Kurt either.

Just as Burt was getting ready to reply the front door creaked open and then slapped shut. Kurt was home from school and Glee Club. Carole gave him a pointed, encouraging look, and Burt dropped her gaze as he listened to Kurt hanging his jacket and setting his shoes down on the mat beside the door. A few moments later, Kurt appeared in the kitchen, pausing at the sight of them both at the stove, before he continued forward towards the refrigerator.

Burt's heart sunk as soon as his looked him over. His son was still young and growing, a little baby fat still clinging in his cheeks and jaw, but he'd shot up over the last year and thinned out a lot. Yet regardless of how much he grew and changed physically, his eyes were always hollow and as close to lifeless as Burt had ever seen when someone's heart was still beating.

Kurt was wearing a different outfit from this morning. That could mean any number of things had happened. Knowing that his son was completely miserable hurt him even more than the fact that Kurt wouldn't tell him anything that was going on. Kurt had suffered more than enough in his sixteen years and Burt wished there was some way he could make things easier or at least given Kurt a friend to confide in if he wouldn't trust him.

"Hey, Kurt," Burt said with a smile. For a second, he almost reached out to pat Kurt on the shoulder, but stopped the idea before it had fully formed. Kurt didn't like to be touched a lot, or at all most of the time. He would keep his distance until his son was comfortable with more. "How was school, bud?"

"The usual," Kurt said after a moment, but the tension in his shoulders told Burt otherwise.

Still, he didn't push. He never wanted to push Kurt into something he wasn't ready for, not like he had when he was younger and had demanded that Kurt stop talking about _Blaine_. The imaginary friend he'd invented in his grieving and loneliness, but that had eventually been too much for Burt to handle. He regretted his snapping, had apologized, and told Kurt he could still talk about Blaine, but Kurt hadn't said a word about him since. Whether or not that was a good thing was anyone's guess, but Burt had seen his son grow steadily more miserable after that day. Even now, he couldn't help but blame himself.

"We're making Santa Fe Chicken and cooking up some vegetables," Carole told him gently, and she dared to touch him. It was just briefly, a light hand on his upper back, but Kurt shied away immediately, pulling a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and circling around the counter until it was between them.

"Okay, I'll be in my room," Kurt said softly, hitching up his bag.

"You sure you don't want to stay and help?" Burt asked hopefully. "We'd love to hear how your first day back was– "

"I've got a lot of homework, Dad," Kurt said swiftly, swiping an apple out of the fruit bowl and heading towards the hallway. He paused before he left the room, footsteps faltering as he glanced over his shoulder. "Call me for dinner?"

"Of course, sweetie," Carole assured him. "It'll be ready in another hour or so."

Kurt nodded in understanding before he disappeared. As soon as the door to Kurt's basement bedroom opened and clicked close, Burt leaned over the counter, elbows on the marble as he dropped his head into his hands. He hated how far apart they were and how much further that distance seemed to grow daily.

"I really wish you'd talk to him," Carole remarked quietly as she set down her chopping knife and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "He needs you more than anything right now, sweetheart."

"I just wish he'd let me in," Burt muttered hoarsely, scrubbing at his eyes. "God, I don't want to force him to come out to me, Carole. I can't even imagine how _terrifying _it is for him to admit that to himself but... I don't know how much longer I can watch him like this."

"You're here for him and you are a _wonderful_ father, Burt," Carole told him quietly, her hand rubbing over his back soothingly as he tried to regain control of himself. "I know that and you know that, but does _Kurt_ know that?"

"Of course he does– "

"Does he really, though?" Carole persisted softly. "Because I know you keep a distance to try to help him relax and feel more at ease, but I don't think he realizes that's why you do it, Burt. I really don't."

"I– " Burt shook his head, rubbing at his eyes again. He pulled his head back, staring at the dark cabinet in front of him. He got the point she was trying to make, but the idea that Kurt thought he was pulling back because he didn't care or didn't love him was ridiculous. There was no way Kurt would think that about him, not after everything they'd been through since Elizabeth had died. "Elizabeth would know what to say," he murmured weakly. "She always understood his so exactly. Half the time I couldn't even keep his different cries straight when he was a baby, but she always knew."

Carole said nothing for several moments, and a few months ago Burt might have thought it was because he'd mentioned his late wife. He and Carole talked about missing Elizabeth and Christopher a lot, though, and she knew he wasn't wishing her away even if he wished Elizabeth was here to help their son.

"At some point, one of you has to make the first move," she finally told him. "I know you want Kurt to do it, but even if you're just sitting him down and reminding him that you're always here for him, I think it's going to have to be you, Burt. Kurt's stubborn," she reminded him. "Like his father."

As she moved back to the stove and vegetables, Burt sighed and turned his gaze out towards the window, thinking about his late wife and the son she'd left behind in what he considered his less than capable hands. Kurt had no one to confide in anymore, not even an imaginary friend that had helped take the hurt away for a while. It still surprised Burt to this day that Kurt's little eight year old mind had created such a boy, one that was strong, wise, and comforting, and said things that Burt didn't think Kurt even understood. There had been countless instances of wisdom Kurt had prattled off like it was common knowledge, and eventually Burt had stopped asking where he'd heard it.

_"Blaine told me that, Daddy! He's the smartest, nicest boy ever and he's got eyes like honey and a forest and chocolate all mixed up in one!"_

Burt shook the memory off, his heart aching in his chest at the once happy and bubbly little boy his son had been. Kurt could use a friend like that in his life and Burt was starting to doubt that such a kid was ever going to show up and help turn Kurt's life around. Even if he'd never admit it to anyone, sometimes Burt wished Blaine had been real. Kurt would be so much better for it.


	4. Chapter 3: Time Rupture

A/N: It's an updating daaaaaaaaaay -screeches- I'm excited, okay? So we're finally getting into the story-story now that everything's roughly established. This is the last you'll see of Cameron for a bit. He's mostly a secondary story (and behind the scenes info, too) since Blaine goes back in this chapter. He'll probably crop up about every 5-7 chapters until we get to the end.

So yeah, enjoy, fire questions at my tumblr ask if you wish it, and you totally should cause I love world/story questions, especially for this one since there's a lot still to discover!

Until next Monday, enjoy rupturing with Blaine!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 3: Time Rupture**

It was shortly before dawn when the door to Cameron's office opened. It was Brian, one of Blaine's buddies from his hall-block, and who Cameron asked to come in this morning to help with Blaine's Rupture. Brian usually helped with Blaine's Ruptures and Blaine did the same for Brian's. Part of the Between's system was designating pairs so there was always a known and trusted assistant. In Blaine's case, Cameron would have preferred a set companion from Rupture to return since he was a minor, but Blaine had been here too long for only one person to last that long. The man masquerading as Blaine's brother for this final trip was already in the Present Lima, Ohio, starting his own mission.

"Hello, sir," Brian greeted, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking excited. Cameron was aware of the fact that Brian had heard that this was Blaine's last mission. A lot of people had heard and been to see his grandson over the last few days to wish him well and say goodbye. It was remarkable to see just how many people Blaine had connected with here in recent years. Cameron could only imagine how many times their numbers could be multiplied to encompass everyone from the last fifty years. "Is Blaine here yet?"

"No," Cameron sighed, glancing at the little clock on his desk that currently show it to be a quarter to six. "He's not set until twenty-three after; first of the morning. Should be here in about fifteen minutes if he knows what's good for him."

Brian nodded in understanding and without a word, he hurried over the chairs in the far corner, ignoring the second and focusing on adjusting the hand straps and testing them for durability. There was no need for the second chair today and Cameron hoped there wouldn't be for a long time. Brian ran over the entire system: the chair bolted to the floor, made of solid steel and burnt black from the thousands of people who had sat in it. At the foot of the chair was an odd device, the Jolter, as most of them called it. It was a small basin, just wide enough for the average human body to fall through, and was dug down into the floor. It was incredibly shallow, though, not even two inches deep and currently empty, though it would soon be filled with water. It was lined with steel and the concave dip was bare, but as he watched, Brian pulled the silver, curved plate from the rack on the wall and fitted it into the groove. Silver was their best conductor, which meant their agent would be given the most powerful jump they could offer him or her and could stay in Time longer.

Cameron watched him work as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He'd been up all night, reading through everything in Kurt Hummel's file and then Burt Hummel's, Carole Hudson's, and then Blaine's. It was all overwhelming to think that this was really it for Blaine. He was going back to make a huge difference in this boy's life once more and then...

Then he'd be Beyond and Cameron would never see Blaine again.

His heart hammered a little faster at the thought and he squeezed his eyes shut. He'd had three decades to make amends with Blaine, to tell him how much he loved and cherished him, and as usual he'd been too stubborn to say a damn word. Now it was almost too late. The clock was ticking, winding down the time until Blaine rejoined it. How was he ever going to get out everything he wanted and needed to say in twenty minutes?

To distract himself, Cameron flipped back to Blaine's file on the screen and felt his lips tug up at the picture of his grandson that greeted him. It was the last one taken of him alive, right before his first day of his junior year. Cooper was there with him, hoisting him off the ground in a ridiculous bear hug as their faces betrayed the joy and laughter the moment had captured. His oldest grandson had never been the same after Blaine's death. Cameron still checked in on him, watched the now elderly man waste away the little bit of his life that was left. He wondered if Cooper would end up here in another handful of years and then he'd have his other grandson for a while. It seemed very likely that he would, considering the miserable life Cooper had lived since 1960.

He stared long and hard at Blaine's picture, memorizing every dip and angle. Cameron would never see that face again after twenty-three past six this morning. No matter what happened, Blaine wouldn't look like that ever again.

He scrolled down through the demographics of Blaine's profile, past his full name, date of birth, height, locations, and a dozen other useless details that Cameron had never needed a file to know. Finally he stopped at one of the last markers, but the most important one of all for Blaine's last mission: Soulmate(s).

Everyone's profile had the section listed, though not everyone had a list of potential matches. For some, they were still too young for theirs to stop spinning and were instead still scrolling mindlessly, but eventually everyone's stopped, usually between fourteen and seventeen years of age. In some cases, a person could have dozens of people listed as possibilities, though the individuals could span the entirety of Time. Cameron himself had three. Two had been blacked out because they'd died and moved Beyond decades, even centuries, before he'd been born. His third had been his wife. Other people only had one, and others still had none or all of theirs were marked out by the time it stopped scrolling.

People in the Present had no inkling that such connections could exist between people. There were no physical markings or indications to help them find each other and in some cases, people never found each other. Or their soulmate in that part of Time died of their own choosing and left them without that bond.

Not everyone was allowed to view this section of their own profile. Blaine's had been locked against him for fifty years, but Cameron could access it and he knew the truth. There was only one person listed in Blaine's and he was the same boy Blaine was about to go back to help.

They were both each other's only matches and that in and of itself was remarkably rare. To Cameron, it wasn't that bizarre, considering everything he knew about his grandson and everything he'd read and seen about Kurt. They were both incredibly unique individuals, stuck in similar lives, but from different times. The fact that Blaine had lasted in the Between this long made Cameron all the more confident that, whatever happened after this morning, that Blaine and Kurt would share something special for however long they were allowed.

The door across the office was flung open a second later and Cameron closed out of the pages as Blaine came sprinting in.

"Sorry, I overslept– "

"Seriously? Why do you always waste time sleeping?"

"Well, I've gotta get used to it again, don't I?"

Cameron's gaze shot to the clock on his desk as Brian and Blaine bickered playfully. His heart tottered on the little shelf he liked to keep it on, high and back away from anything or anyone that could get onto it or even see what was resting up there. It was ten after six. Blaine had to get set up to go in thirteen minutes, and Cameron still didn't know what to say or how to even begin with his grandson. Some days he felt like he still didn't know him at all, and then others, like right now, Cameron realized it was himself he was unfamiliar with. Blaine was laid wide open, no shame or regrets on his heels or doggedly snarling in his ear. It was himself that was still so jumbled up and right now, Cameron couldn't imagine where to start sorting himself out.

"It's all set up," Brian hollered from across the room as Blaine hurried over.

For several minutes, Cameron watched in silence, swallowing the golf ball-sized lump ballooning in his throat. He had to say something, anything would do as long as he didn't leave it like this. Blaine would still be back after his time ran out, albeit briefly, but Cameron knew without a doubt he'd be an emotional wreck when that happened. Most of them were when they finally faced whatever was in their past. Now was the moment to pull him aside and say what he needed to.

But as more time ticked by, Cameron sat there, his clothes stitched into the chair's leather as Brian and Blaine checked the basin of water at the foot of the chair and the electrical charge equipment beside it. What could he say to make up for what he'd already said over fifty years ago?

"Six minutes," Brian called out, and his announcement finally spurred Cameron out of his desk chair and over to them.

"You've read everything thoroughly?" Cameron asked as Blaine settled down in the chair and slid his hands into the straps.

"Yes," Blaine answered, skimming the surface of the water with the soles of his shoes.

"And you've got all of your back stories straight?"

"Memorized them two decades ago," Blaine reminded him with a small grin. The teasing answer earned him an appreciative chuckle from Brian and a stern gaze from Cameron, who immediately wiped it off his face when he remembered that this was the last time he'd ever see Blaine like this; happy, carefree despite his baggage, and still vulnerably innocent in every other area of his life.

"And your pocket watch?" Cameron continued. Then he did something that he'd never down before, he leaned down and smoothed out the collar of Blaine's jacket where it was stuck under the strap of his backpack, straightening the little flaps until they were folded over neatly.

His grandson reacted almost instantly, jolting in surprise and then staring up at him in stunned bewilderment. Cameron never made moves to touch him, and Blaine had always followed his lead in that regard. Biting his lip, Cameron straightened it just right and bent down further.

"Your pocket watch, Blaine," he repeated.

"Wh– oh, yeah," Blaine stammered, fumbling in his pocket until he pulled the little watch out and held it up for Cameron to see. "Right here."

"Good," Cameron said, his voice starting to tremble with emotions he'd suppressed for years.

"Two minutes– "

He ignored Brian's words and dropped his hands onto his grandson's shoulders, feeling the tense surprise as their eyes, both the same shade of hazel, met. It was one of Cameron's favorite things about his youngest grandson, though he always felt petty for thinking it. It was comforting to see that resemblance to himself in Blaine. It reminded him every day of what truly mattered and always had; not how they were different, but how they were alike.

"Be safe," Cameron began, voice dropping as Brian checked dials and made a few last minute adjustments. "Most importantly, do what feels right," Cameron told him as Blaine's eyes flickered back and forth between each of his. Blaine was clearly surprised by Cameron's touch and his words, but he plowed on quickly as the buzzer on the side panel went off.

_One minute before his grandson left here forever._

"Listen to your heart, okay, Blaine? Even if it seems impossible or crazy o- or like the worst idea, _listen to it_," Cameron murmured, not even trying to control the wavering of his voice as Blaine's brow scrunched up in confusion. Blaine still nodded as Brian hollered for Cameron to step back in order to proceed with the Rupture.

"Grandfather, I– "

But the metal of the basin turned a fiery, molten red before he could finish, and a blinding flash went off with the charge that was now surging through Blaine and shocking his body back into a frayed existence in Time.

Blaine was gone when the light faded, just a singed chair and the lingering smell of burnt fabric and that stupid raspberry hair gel he insisted on wearing left behind.

"I love you, Blaine, no matter who you love in return," Cameron whispered, not caring that Brian had obviously heard him or that Blaine was gone now.

He'd missed his last chance, and now, even when he briefly saw Blaine again when he returned, he would never be able to say what he needed to. His grandson's existence would end without him ever knowing the truth about Cameron's regret or his unwavering love for him. His own nerve had failed him all over again, and for once, Cameron didn't return to his paperwork or go back to looking through all of the upcoming cases he had to prepare. After he saw Brian from his office, he sat down where Blaine had just been, dropped his head into his shaking hands, and wept.

* * *

The electric shock shot through Blaine's limbs before he could string three words together. As everything froze around him, he saw his grandfather's expression, free from its usual callous and hard look and instead crumpled and regretful. It was bizarre to witness, even momentarily, but he was jolted from his thoughts as the charge ricocheted under his skin, tingling through every fiber, follicle, and cell until he was white-hot and felt like he'd crash landed in a supernova.

Ruptures were always like this. The sensation didn't hurt, but it still felt incredibly weird to know the feeling should be burning through his flesh and, if he'd been alive, killing him. Fortunately, death wasn't possible in the Between since everyone there had already experienced it, but the first time it had happened, Blaine had panicked so much he'd almost lost himself in the Rupture. He eased up on his hold on the straps as the light continued to build around him until it blocked out his grandfather and Brian and the room he'd done this in a hundred times before.

Any second the tug would start, first at his feet, and then Time would snatch him up, thinking he'd almost escaped from a bad electrical shock in its reality. That was the trick of it – making Time think you'd had a near-death experience, such as their most easily manipulated method of electric shock, so that it hurried to tug you back into its grasp. The charge would keep his body pulsing and feeling similar to the people still meant to be there, at least for a while, and once it wore off, Time would sling him back out.

There was only a moment to suck in a deep, needless breath before Blaine felt it, like a giant suction cup on the underside of his sneakers and then he was yanked from his chair, his body slipping through the hot water in the basin as everything gained momentum and swirled around him.

It was a rupture of Time, his mind, body, and soul, fabricated in some bizarre place nobody really had a name for or understood. To Blaine, it was always blinding during the brief first glimpse he managed to snatch up before his consciousness started to melt away. This was Time as far as he was concerned. This was where everything came together in a jumbled, heaving, painful mess that had no sense and no order until it was set out on a reality where everything was slower.

He was coming undone, being stripped bare until he was boneless and nothing more than a mind charging back into the real world. His vision swam and he rumbled through the noise of forgotten lands and places, distances and people while he was disintegrated and torn apart, losing sense of what was him and what was nothing. It was all nothing in here. An endless, unchecked flash of memories ran through him as his feet began realigning, grappling with something hard and solid underneath them as his mind started to go fuzzy and lose the focus he'd been trained to keep during Rupture.

For a second, he forgot who he was, where he was, or even what his purpose in being anywhere was. He was a million faces at once, a hundred different lives all mashed up around him with no end or beginning. The tug on his feet lessened more, and with a jolt he remembered one face distinctly. A sad, lonely face he'd seen eight years prior, but had yet to see again in person. Just a small picture of the same boy, even sadder and more dejected than before.

_Kurt_.

Kurt was why he was here.

With a crack, he dropped onto something bumpy and solid, eyes shut and stomach churning as his body adjusted to the dismantling it had just endured. Spots kept popping up behind his eyelids and Blaine laid still, his head swimming as he drew in a shuddery breath.

He'd made it back, but as always he felt like it had been by the skin of his teeth. Long-term Ruptures were alarming to go through, and for him especially, he knew where he would be when he opened his eyes.

The back lot of McKinley High School, behind the gymnasium and not too far from the football field. He always woke up here for long-term missions and hated it every time. This mission especially made this spot have a lot of meaning. It wasn't easy or enjoyable to be in the same spot where he'd died half a century ago.

A cool breeze brushed over his sweaty neck and face as he continued to breathe in deeply and then exhale. Finally, when Blaine thought his stomach was settled enough, he sat up and then opened his eyes. Sure enough, he was in the far corner, in an empty parking space that had been a giant pothole in his life.

_"You think you're cool, you stupid little queer? Bet you want your mouth stuffed full of all of our dicks, don't you? You're going straight to Hell."_

Blaine jerked his head to the side as the memory of the fist that had followed cracked against his jaw. _Don't think about that_,_ don't remember it here._ They'd been wrong in so many ways and always would be.

Slowly, Blaine looked around, taking in the early morning sunlight and the birds chirping in the trees lining the backside of the bleachers. Not much had changed since his last long-term mission here seventeen years ago. The parking lot had been repaved in recent years, but it always was by the time he came here again. The first time he'd came to here, he'd been startled to see the pothole he'd tripped in on that Friday night was filled in. He always wondered if him bleeding to death in it had been the catalyst for that.

Several cars rolled passed on the street behind him. He glanced over quickly, surprised to find a chain-linked fence had been put up and that behind it was a new neighborhood he'd never seen before. McKinley might still look the same, but everything around it certainly didn't. As gingerly as Blaine could, he climbed to his feet, taking his time to adjust to the more heavy solidness of his body here and the way his stomach was still squirming angrily.

He swung his backpack around and unzipped the smallest pocket for the name he needed to ask for in the front office: _Ms. Emma Pillsbury, guidance counselor_.

With a last, agonizing look at the pavement once stained with his blood, saliva, and tears, Blaine turned towards the school building in the distance and hurried off. For right now, he could forget everything that had happened. Just for a little while longer, he could ignore that this mission was his last and that at some point he would face and accept the brutal reality he'd been given in that lot. But for now, he dug his pocket watch back out and opened the little silver, engraved cover.

It had once been his normal watch when he was still alive. A gift from his grandfather on his sixteenth birthday and a congratulations for his remarkably early acceptance into Julliard. It was slightly larger than a half dollar, pure silver with a musical staff and several curving lines of notes on the front. Along the bottom of the design was an engraving of his full name: Blaine Devon Anderson. He'd carried it everywhere after that day, even when his grandfather had disowned him. It had been his favorite gift and a symbol of how much he could accomplish when he set his mind on something.

Now it served only one purpose: a countdown until he was yanked back to the Between, or the Beyond this time, if all went well. Blaine studied the time displayed as he passed through the gate of the fence and onto the bus parking lot. Eight hours and forty-four minutes to anyone else who looked at it, but Blaine knew what was meant and it surprised him. The hour hand translated into months for long-term missions and the minute hand covered any days beyond that.

For some reason he'd been given the absolute maximum time: nine months and then a fortnight after that. Puzzled, but slightly pleased that he might have some time to enjoy himself the last time he was ever here, Blaine climbed the steps to the front entrance. He knew without a doubt that the longer time most likely meant that whatever he was here for would either be a lot of things to tie together by June or that something really bad was going to happen, either to Kurt or–

He froze as his sneakers squeaked on the floor tiles.

This mission had been assigned to him because Kurt and himself had similar situations. Helping Kurt with his would supposedly help Blaine to deal with his own, but... did that mean Kurt was going to die? Was he here to help Kurt leave Time in the same way he himself had?

"... Are you okay?" a high, concerned voice asked. It was sluggish in his ears, like cement chugging its way down a chute. He looked up and found a kind, beautiful red-haired woman standing in front of him. "Sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I– sorry, I um," Blaine scrambled to get his head on straight after the paralyzing thought he'd just encountered. "I'm new here," he finally said gruffly. "I'm supposed to meet the guidance counselor to set up my class schedule, but I don't know where the office is."

It was an absolute lie on his part. The location of McKinley's front office hadn't changed since he'd actually attended, but he knew it was an easy cover story for the shocked look that must had graced his face.

The woman smiled sweetly. "Well, you're in luck," she told him. "You just ran into the exact person you're here so early to meet with. I'm Ms. Pillsbury."

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine returned politely, holding out his hand to shake, but when Ms. Pillsbury looked at it like a maggot-infected piece of rotting wood, Blaine slowly dropped it.

"It's very nice to meet you," she said instead, still eyeing his hand wearily.

Nonplussed, Blaine followed her down the hall to her office. It was a nice, very orderly room as he saw when they approached. The wall that separated it from the hallway was entirely made of glass windows and a glass-paneled door. Inside the shelves were organized almost too exactly and everything resting on the desk was aligned very precisely. Seventeen years ago it had been a walled off closet of an office for two of the English teachers.

Blaine caught it all with one sweeping glance. After half a century of working with people, figuring them out and then puzzling them back together, he had gotten very good at taking things in with a short glance and then filing and sorting away what he saw.

Ms. Pillsbury took out a handkerchief from her blouse pocket and used it when she grabbed the door handle and motioned him inside. She was a severe germophobe then, or some variety of OCD, though with only a few minutes together Blaine couldn't be sure of which.

"Take a seat," she offered before closing the door and scurrying around to her own chair which she eased into carefully and then rolled forward and to the left just exactly. OCD then. Definitely.

Blaine filed the knowledge away as she turned to her computer and began typing things in.

"So where are you from, Blaine?" she asked politely. The fact that she sounded genuinely interested was surprising. McKinley's last guidance counselor had been a bowling ball-shaped man who always had hot sauce stains on his tie and crumbs in his mustache. Blaine had kept away from him as much as possible after his class schedule had been arranged.

"Westerville," Blaine answered calmly, letting the familiar tale run over his tongue. "My brother and I just moved here a few weeks ago. Our parents died in a car accident in July, so I'm living with him until I go off to college."

Her face fell at his words, but Blaine barely batted an eyelash. "Oh, Blaine, I am so sorry to hear that," she said sincerely, pausing in her typing. "Do you– I'm always free to meet, and I have a ton of pamphlets if you need one for grieving– "

"No, no, it's fine," he assured her, but was secretly quite impressed with her, especially when he looked behind her at the stacks and rows of pamphlets. Several caught his eye and made him bite down a chuckle. He couldn't begin to imagine why anyone would need an "Oops, I Pooped in Homeroom Again" pamphlet, but everyone struggled with their own individual problems.

"Well, my door is always open," she told him. "I mean, it's usually closed because of all the students and all those greasy teenage germs, but figuratively, it's open for anyone who needs an ear."

"Thank you, that's very kind."

"It's my job to help," she reminded him. She typed at her computer for several more minutes before making a pleased noise that told Blaine she'd found him and his information in the system. "We've got quite a wide variety of courses to choose from for your junior year," she began. "I see you've taken almost all advanced courses at Dalton Academy and are actually well ahead of most of your classmates here in terms of graduation requirements."

He was well ahead of them in all of their courses right now, too, even if Blaine didn't say it out loud. That was one benefit of reliving his junior year of high school every time he came down here for a long mission. The only subject that really changed was history, and sometimes some of the sciences, depending on which he took.

"I'd like to continue with advanced courses, or AP ones," Blaine told her, "for English, History, and Chemistry."

As she began marking stuff in her system Blaine ran through the mental list of Kurt's other classes. He didn't want to look too suspicious obviously, but his mission, whatever it ended up being, would be easiest if he shared a lot of classes with the other boy. Kurt was the core of his assignment and the sooner he got to know him as a teenager, the better.

"And Pre-Calculus?" she added. "Your file says your last math course was Algebra II and Trigonometry."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. That one was a hit or miss with Kurt. It was the same course, but there were a number of sections of it offered. That left three more classes to decide on and he knew he'd never make it through Kurt's upper-level French course. "Is there a choir class?" he wondered, already knowing there was because Kurt was in it. "I'd love to join that. I was in the acapella group at Dalton."

"There is, just the one and it's not a very big group, but I know them quite well," she told him, marking it on her screen. "They're a great bunch of kids, and they have a Glee Club set up after school. I'm sure they'd love to have you."

"Great," he said happily. "I guess I'll take weight-lifting and German for the last two."

Weight-lifting would give him a class with Kurt's potential step-brother, Finn, and German was easy for him. It should be after taking the same course five times.

Ms. Pillsbury clicked the last two and after a few minutes the printer on the filing cabinet beside her desk started up and spit out a sheet with his class schedule. He picked it up when she motioned for him to do so, and glanced at it briefly. Immediately he was glad to see his first two classes were shared with Kurt.

"Here's a map of the building, an agenda, and your locker number and combination. Homeroom starts at half past seven and then after announcements everyone moves to their first class," Ms. Pillsbury added, sliding two more pieces of paper over to him. He took them without looking at them and gave her a bright smile as he stood up.

"Thanks so much," he said.

"If you need anything else– "

"Your door's always figuratively open," he finished with a charming smile that made her beam as he exited the office.

He tucked the map into his back pocket and ran over his schedule once more. History first block with Kurt on the far side of the building. After finding a clock down one of the hallways, Blaine set off for the bathroom before he decided to mess with his locker.

That was one of the worst things about being back in Time after a Rupture. One of the first things he always had to do was pee and it always came over him so abruptly he was lucky to have never had an accident. With a final look down the hallway slowly filling with students, Blaine ducked into the nearest boys' room before his bladder combusted.


	5. Chapter 4: A Real Boy

A/N: Right, so first, apologies for the delay everyone. There was a little mi up between me and my beta on which chapter was this week, so yeah. The bad news is that you get this update a day late, but the good news is that next week's chapter has already been betaed and its just a matter of me going through it to look at changes and suggestions. So yeah, sorry about that!

Anyway, some more Kurt and Burt POV this time around. Now the real fun begins! Enjoy!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 4: A Real Boy**

Kurt winced loudly as he attempted to scramble over the lip of the dumpster. It was Friday morning , the end of his first week, and apparently the trash company's schedule had changed since last year. His usual tormentors had swung him over the top of the dumpster and Kurt hadn't thought too much of what was to come – until he kept falling and his ass slammed down against the bottom of the rusty metal hull. The impact had ricocheted around the dumpster like a pinball and echoed around the parking lot. For once his bullying had resulted in a hushed silence even though nobody had come to his aid. His body had reacted instinctively at first to the jarring jolt, going numb to ease the initial pain he was used to at the same time every morning, but after the jocks had run off, a painful heat started coursing along the back of his body until it was aching and throbbing angrily.

With another lunge, he managed to hoist himself over the top and out of the filthy innards onto the grassy curb beside the dumpster. There was no doubt in his mind that his backside was going to be a huge swollen bruise by lunch. Sitting in the desk chairs was going to be tear-inducing, and he'd be lucky if he only had to ice his ass for a few days afterwards. If he was lucky his body would be healed enough by Monday that he could sit without unbearable discomfort.

An empty dumpster was certainly a first for Kurt, even after three years of being tossed into them. Before now the trash company's assigned pick up had always been midday on Thursdays, and so the janitor's still had something to dump by the time they left for the day. The impacts had been less cushy, but nothing compared to thud he'd just endured. He'd have to start arriving earlier on Fridays to account for the change. Then he'd skip past the dumpster toss entirely if he was lucky.

Limping slightly from the tense soreness seeping into his body, Kurt hobbled across the lot with his bag as the homeroom tardy bell rang. He'd be fine skipping. Mr. McGrover didn't care to take attendance in his homerooms. It was unsurprisingly the best thing that had happened to Kurt this week and would probably be the only good thing for many months to come. At least he wouldn't end up in detention for being late to, or skipping, too many homerooms because he was tending to his wounds and changing out of his ruined clothes.

With an extra ten minutes to clean himself up, Kurt hurried into the right side of McKinley, bypassing the auditorium and the choir room as he rushed into the bathroom around the corner from his history class. There was usually nobody in this one early in the mornings. It was surrounded by the empty music hall, the vacant cafeteria, and then the gymnasium that had bathrooms in each of the locker rooms. The only people who might be around where the cafeteria workers, and since most of them were middle-aged females the boys' bathroom had a huge change of being empty and Kurt felt safest here.

Kurt gave the hallway one final sweep before he ducked inside. The morning announcements were just beginning, crackling over the sound system and starting with the "Pledge of Allegiance" which he ignored in favor of cleaning himself up. He was careful to catch the bathroom door as it started to swing closed, slowly easing it the last few inches back into its slot as he listened for the sounds of someone's breathing or the splash of urine hitting toilet water. Nothing.

Kurt crept around the bend, checking the empty sinks and urinal stalls. Across from the bathroom mirrors the toilet stall doors were all cracked open and looked empty. Good. He had the room to himself. Just seven hours of school and then he'd be free from bullies and bruises for an entire weekend. His father and Carole would probably try to lure him upstairs, especially tonight, and bombard him with the usual questions over their Family Dinner night, but Kurt knew how to get around those by now. It was easy to avoid his father's questions when they were always the same. He'd just given Burt a rundown of his classes and assignments as usual, instead of giving answers about his nonexistent social life that his father seemed to want to know about.

Kurt set his bag down under the first sink and began examining his face in the mirror, checking himself for bruises, scrapes, and cuts. His face was clear of blemishes, just two slightly pink cheeks, a light splattering of freckles from cheekbone to cheekbone, and two dull, blue eyes that had seen better days.

With a weak sigh, Kurt started looking over his forearms, and winced at the blood stain that stood out against the pale yellow fabric on his left sleeve. The pain hadn't registered compared to the throbbing sensation radiating all along the backside of his body, but now that he saw the ripped fabric he knew he'd cut himself on something sharp at the bottom of the dumpster.

Carefully, Kurt unbuttoned his sleeve and pushed it up and out of his way. The cut wasn't that deep, about two inches long and close to the crook of his elbow, which was damp with his blood. Kurt took his time washing it off, and was just getting ready to grab a handful of paper towels to dry it off, all the while silently debating about the pros and cons of seeing the nurse to disinfect it properly, when the door whooshed open.

He froze. His entire body tensed as he prepared for the worst, but there was no echo of loud voices or the rumble of one's deeper than his own. A sneaker squeaked against the tiles as Kurt watched the entry way from his mirror. A split second later, he was glad he'd been standing where he was because his knees almost gave out and without the sink for his hands to grab at he would have collapsed.

_Blaine was standing in the bathroom's entrance._

He'd finally lost his mind then. All the bullying and social isolation and being closeted, but so obviously gay to his peers, had finally added up and he'd actual gone mad this time. Maybe he'd been mad all along.

Blaine had paused in the entry way, staring over at Kurt's rumpled hair and disheveled appearance. He was just as Kurt remembered him, and that more than anything made him sure that this was his imagination and had been last time as a child. His dark curls were cropped short and plastered down to his skull with gel like that had been eight years ago. It was just enough to keep it tamed and parted, but still left enough of his natural wave in to be nice. He was shorter than Kurt recalled, but Kurt dazedly reminded himself that he wasn't a scrawny eight year old anymore; he was actually of average height now. But his eyes were the thing that caught Kurt's attention and held it. They were the same shade of hazel, like honey and golden embers and a warm fire in the hearth that Kurt had never found a replacement for after his mother's death and Blaine had said goodbye. Now they weren't sparkling with kindness or amusement at whatever Kurt was saying, but unsure, concerned, yet without any hint of recognition.

That didn't make sense to Kurt. This boy was so clearly the Blaine he remembered, but eight years removed from his sight and years of idealization could have distorted that, right? Maybe this boy just looked how he still pictured Blaine, or his mind was molding Blaine's image into the one standing before him. Because if Blaine was a part of Kurt's imagination – his own creation – then Blaine must remember him. He couldn't exist outside of Kurt's consciousness and _not_–

"Y- you– um, you're bleeding," Blaine –was he Blaine? – remarked, hesitantly pointing towards Kurt's arm. Sure enough the cut was oozing blood again, a thin trail of it running down Kurt's forearm to the edge of the sink and dripping onto the floor.

"I– "

Words failed Kurt. Blaine didn't seem to recognize him, maybe he wasn't even Blaine. How could he have possibly imagined and fantasized about a boy he would someday meet? That seemed just as improbable when this boy looked just like Blaine, talked in the same smooth tenor, and even walked with the same stride Kurt remembered.

Blaine approached slowly, pausing at the paper towel dispenser and yanking out a handful. Kurt watched it all as if through a telescope. Everything about Blaine felt too surreal to be so close and physically possible. He must have hit his head on the landing in the dumpster. Perhaps he was still lying at the bottom of the sticky, germ infested pit, half-conscious and imagining himself imagining Blaine into existence again. Surely if Blaine was this boy, he'd be an adult now and not just as Kurt remembered him.

The water of his sink was suddenly turned back on and Kurt jumped, eyes jerking over to Blaine who gave him a hesitant, close-lipped smile.

"It's okay," the boy said softly, and there was that tone that pulled at Kurt's memory like a fishhook in the side of his mouth. It filled Kurt's chest with warmth, security, and vanished any doubt of how painful life was. This _was_ Blaine_. _He had to be. It wouldn't make sense for him to be anyone else when two soft, kind words could make Kurt's insides feel like a s'more. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. Just– you can wipe it if you don't want me to."

When Kurt didn't say anything or take the damp paper towels, Blaine's smile faltered a little. He was kidding himself completely. This boy didn't know him; that was clear just from the look in his eyes, no matter what his tone of voice said. Kurt's head was swimming with that implication because it didn't make any sense to him. Maybe he was projecting his memories – fantasies?– of Blaine on this boy who... looked exactly like him, down to the slightly off center nose and the bow tie twisted around his neck.

"I– I just wiped it up, but... "Kurt trailed off, not trusting himself to speak any further without blurting out questions or flinging himself into the other boy's arms when he clearly didn't know him. This was all he'd ever wanted, but it seemed as if fate was playing another cruel trick on him.

Blaine took his wrist gently and started cleaning the blood off and then putting pressure on the wound. The touch was so incredibly gentle, Blaine's skin warm and soft against his and soothing in way that made his throat tight and his eyes hot. Nobody had cared for him like this in a long time.

"You should probably see the nurse," Blaine decided, slowly easing Kurt's forearm up until the paper towels were squished and held in place. "It looks kinda bad."

But Kurt hesitated. She always asked questions. She might even think _he'd_ put the cut there, given its location. He didn't want his father called out from work just to come here and have to worry about him further.

"I dunno," Kurt muttered dejectedly.

"Um, well, think about it for a minute?" Blaine offered, shifting from foot to foot. "I've really gotta pee so– "

He darted around Kurt, who was blushing at this point, and planted himself in front of one of the urinals. Kurt did his best to just listen and focus on his own breathing as he scooped up his bag. None of the boys at McKinley ever dared to pee if he was in the room, not even in a locked stall. A few minutes later, the urinal was flushed and Blaine rejoined him, washing his hands quickly as Kurt bit his lip. He didn't understand how this boy could be so comfortable around him immediately. It was as if who he was and what he was had no bearings on what this boy thought of him.

"So, do you wanna do see the nurse?" Blaine asked again as he tossed his used paper toilets into the trash bin. "I'm sure she won't ask too many questions."

Kurt still wasn't sure, but Blaine's – was that even this boy's name – eyes were bright and reassuring. They made Kurt feel safe and as if Blaine understood how he was feeling right now, like he'd been there before. Maybe he had.

"Come on," Blaine urged, sliding his hand into Kurt's right and awkwardly pulling him away from the sinks. "She'll patch you up in a heartbeat. I promise."

Kurt didn't even think as he let Blaine pull him out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His skin was tingling pleasantly, so strange after all the pain and discomfort it normally radiated. His brain was full of foggy memories and spiraling questions that were twirling out of his reach every time he opened his mouth to say something. He wondered vaguely if the nurse would have something that could make his heart stop pounding so fast. Whether this boy was his Blaine or not, he'd taken Kurt's _hand_. Nobody had done that in years. Nobody wanted to even touch him these days, not even his father.

Within minutes they were in the nurse's office. Kurt stood awkwardly behind Blaine as he explained the situation to the nurse, who glanced suspiciously at Kurt, then asked for them to follow her back into a curtained off little room. She directed him to one of the empty beds and then left to get a first-aid kit. Kurt settled down on the cot, eyes still focused on the other boy and hoping more than anything that he _was_ Blaine, because he didn't think he could bare the disappointment of him not being his Blaine. He didn't even want to begin to understand how he could or couldn't be.

Blaine gave him a cheerful smile and plopped down on the cot next to his, facing him, and so close that if Kurt moved his leg their knees would have brushed. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. As soon as he made the first move in touching Blaine he'd poof out of existence again, just a mirage manifested by his own desperate desires.

"My name's Blaine, by the way," and Kurt's heart twanged so hard he thought his chest was going to split in half.

His eyes darted up to meet Blaine's gaze and take in the hand offered to him again. There was so much and still nothing familiar in Blaine's eyes, but this _was_ him. Nothing else made sense. He was real, even the nurse had talked to him. How in the world was any of this even possible?

"Kurt," he finally offered, and he carefully reached out and took Blaine's hand, not daring to grip too tightly or squeeze in case the pressure made Blaine burst like a balloon and then promptly whiz right back out of him life. Blaine's hand was solid, _real_, fit so easily into his own that Kurt startled and withdrew quickly.

A slightly confused look was directed at his abrupt movement, but before Blaine could say anything the nurse returned and started cleaning up his arm. The two of them were silent as the nurse cleaned his cut up and asked a few questions about how it had a occurred. Kurt lied his way through them on instinct. Blaine was still smiling hopefully at him, but Kurt had no idea what it meant. Blaine had no idea what this moment and meeting meant to him because he didn't seem to remember it, and maybe he shouldn't be able to remember it because it hadn't been him. Had he met a remarkably similar father or uncle of Blaine's? An older brother who was just as friendly and nice with the same warm eyes and gentle personality?

The nurse wrote them excuses for class and, with Blaine's guiding hand, he found himself back out in the hallway and headed in the direction they'd left.

"You all right, Kurt?" Blaine asked, watching him closely and taking in his tense posture and distractedness. "I– " he bit his lip as they paused in the hallway. "You didn't tell her the truth, did you? I mean... I know what it's like getting bullied a lot, so... "

Kurt said nothing in response despite wanting to spill everything to the face that comforted him in his dreams. This boy didn't know anything about them or who he looked like. He wasn't Kurt's Blaine even if he was incredibly nice.

"I have to get to history," Kurt said simply, and he found Blaine trotting along beside himself comfortably, completely at ease with the brush off.

"I have history first, too," Blaine said in answer to Kurt's questioning look. He yanked a slip of paper out of his back pocket. "With Mrs. Wallace? Sorry, it's my first day, so I don't really know where anything is."

Kurt paused this time, and Blaine pulled to a stop next to him. He couldn't help but be suspicious of the eager, hopeful smile that graced _that_ face. He was also rather illogically hurt that Blaine didn't recognize him, but then he reminded himself that this Blaine couldn't possibly be _his_ Blaine. But still, why would any new kid in their right mind want to be friends with him? He was the school outcast for any number of reasons, and the prospect of being his friend was equivalent to social suicide.

The word "no" almost formed on his lips as he watched Blaine, a slight bounce to his step and a bright, charming smile directed at him. What if those fantasies, hallucinations, or whatever they'd been eight years ago had been a weird sign for this moment in his life? He didn't know what to make of any of it, but the one person he'd wanted in his life more than anything was the boy who had helped him so long ago.

Even if this Blaine wasn't his Blaine, he was close. Close enough that Kurt thought he would make a fantastic friend to sooth the loneliness that dominated his life.

"She's pretty nice," Kurt settled on. "A bit hard of hearing, but she grades fair."

"We have the same class then?" Blaine asked, adjusting the strap on his bag as Kurt started tentatively walking down the hall again.

Blaine kept pace with him, eyes bright.

"Yeah, I'll show you where it is."

"Great!"

But as Kurt led him down the hallway he realized that Blaine had directed him to the nurse's room twenty minutes ago without the slightest need for directions or any confusion whatsoever. Yet the same boy had no idea where their history classroom was and had just said he didn't know where anything was. Still unbearably suspicious, Kurt directed Blaine into their first block class and approached Mrs. Wallace first.

"Ah, Kurt, I was wondering where you'd been," she greeted, accepting his excuse note and waving him towards his seat. "We're reading the end of the second chapter and then going to do an assignment in pairs."

Kurt nodded and stepped aside so that she could see Blaine, waiting patiently to give her his note and introduce himself.

"Hi, Mrs. Wallace. I'm new. My name's Blaine Anderson. I don't know if they told you– "

Kurt froze at Blaine's surname. Even that was the same and it blew his mind to pieces. There was no way he wasn't his Blaine, but there was no logical way that he _was,_ either.

"Oh, of course, Emma sent me an email to let me know you'd be joining us," she replied kindly. "I'll have a packet of what you've missed ready by the end of the day if you could just stop by before you leave?"

"Sure, great! Thank you so much– "

"Just take an empty chair and that'll be your spot," she finished. "Kurt, dear? Do you need to go back to the nurse?"

He jerked his gaze around, realizing he'd paused halfway down the row to his seat at the back. The entire class was casting him looks, mostly sneers and curious glances from the ones who ignored him. Blaine was still smiling, but biting his lip and adorably attempting to hide his grin.

"N- no, I'm– I'll sit," he decided softly, flinching as one of the jocks hit him with a wad of paper. Mrs. Wallace, who was climbing to her feet, didn't notice.

As she introduced Blaine to the class, Kurt took his seat, and waited to see what Blaine would do. There were three open spots: one by the trio of jocks that were snickering and still chucking things at Kurt, a second by a Cheerio girl who was batting her eyes flirtatiously at Blaine, and a third in the back by Kurt.

Immediately, Kurt knew what would happen. Blaine would take the spot by the beautiful Cheerio, just as any other heterosexual boy in his right mind would. He'd forget all about Kurt. The little shred of hope that had been unfurling in Kurt's chest since he'd seen Blaine's face reflected back at him in the bathroom mirror would smolder and die, completely unnoticed. Blaine was a handsome boy. Before long he'd be sucked in and socialized with the popular crowd and Kurt wouldn't even be a blip in his memories.

Then something surprising happened that made several people gasp and the jocks crack their knuckles: Blaine headed straight to the back, past the flirty Cheerio's stunned face, and slid into the chair beside Kurt. It was unheard of for anyone to willingly sit by Kurt, and the class, especially those with the ability to make Blaine's life a miserable hell, had taken note.

As Mrs. Wallace told everyone to continue the assigned reading until eight o'clock, Kurt leaned over and hissed at Blaine. "Are you insane?"

But Blaine just grinned and shrugged. "If by insane you're implying that I just sat down next to my first friend at McKinley, then yes, I certainly am," Blaine whispered in response.

Stunned that Blaine had just called him something nobody had since elementary school, Kurt said nothing and turned to his textbook while Blaine did the same.

He found it difficult to focus while he read, and when they all paired off for assignments Blaine immediately asked him. Kurt, who usually ended up being the third wheel in another group, allowed Blaine to push their desks together and dictate the questions they had to answer. His next class was the same. Blaine spent the walk upstairs to their shared Chemistry class comparing their schedules and was quite glad to see they had a few classes together the following day. Kurt was silently pleased as well, but every moment with Blaine made just reminded Kurt of how confused his mind was. He couldn't figure out how to let it go or why it bugged him so much. But it did because he couldn't puzzle out any logical answer.

When the final bell rang, Kurt hurried from his Home Economics class and downstairs to his locker. With any luck he'd make it out to his Navigator before any of the jocks searched him out for a final round of tormenting. He was just spinning in the last number on his lock when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Hey, stranger. You look like you're in a rush," Blaine remarked teasingly.

"J- just anxious to get home," Kurt lied, glancing over at Blaine with a small smile and then past him to Karofsky, Azimio, and Rick "The Stick" Neilson who were headed their way and armed with slushies. Kurt's stomach dropped at the sight.

"Oh, yeah, the weekend," Blaine recalled, like he'd somehow managed to forget such a thing existed. Maybe he had. He'd potentially forgotten a lot else. "Are you doing anything exciting? I'm just unpacking."

"No," Kurt answered, stuffed his last notebook into his bag and closing his locker sharply. "I have to go, but I'll see you– "

"You'd see him tied down so you could have your faggot way with him," Azimio snarled from behind Blaine.

Kurt flushed as Blaine turned to look at the jocks, taking two steps back towards Kurt at the sight of the towering boys. This would be the end of their short-lived friendship. If Blaine hadn't clued in by now he would after that line or a slushy to the face.

"Oh, guys, come on. Kurt's nice– "

"You a homo, too?" Karofsky barked, the hand clutching his slushy raising up menacingly. "You want him up your butt– "

"There's nothing wrong with being gay," Blaine stated flatly and the strength and conviction in his voice startled Kurt and the three jocks. Nobody had ever stood up for Kurt before. Even Kurt couldn't bring himself to stand up for his sexuality. "I bet you all like Queen's music and Freddie Mercury was bisexual."

"We should have known he was queer," Rick muttered furiously. "Look at that stupid tie."

"It's a very nice bow tie," Kurt said shakily. "Much better than being a jersey repeater."

The jocks chuckled and closed in on them, but Blaine, much to Kurt's surprise kept himself planting firmly between him and the other boys. Blaine was obviously shaking, but he stood strong as the cups were raised and dumped on his head.

"That's what you get for hanging with the school fag, Anderson! Welcome to McKinley!"

As Blaine spluttered and wiped furiously at his eyes, the jocks laughed and walked off. The other students around them had paused to watch, some looking surprised by the strange turn of events and others snickering behind their hands. Santana Lopez, one of the members of the Glee Club, but also a ruthless Cheerio, passed by, hand in hand with Brittany Pierce, and grinned maliciously at them.

"At least he's got a cute ass, Hummel. Too bad you'll never fuck it," Santana said happily before the two girls bounced away.

Kurt turned to Blaine, who was wincing and rubbing at his eyes and face.

"God, Blaine, I– that was– I should have warned you. I'm sorry– "

"Well, that's certainly a new one," Blaine offered weakly. "D- do you have a towel or something?"

Kurt watched him continue to brush the melting ice off of himself as his eyes turned red and he blinked repeatedly. He knew Blaine's eyes had to be burning right now, especially since it was presumably the first time he'd ever experienced this, but the other boy was taking it remarkably well. He had no towel to offer though, and as he looked down at Blaine's polo he realized it would be ruined if he didn't get it in a washer soon.

"No, but– come on," he decided quickly. "We'll go to my house and get you cleaned up, okay?"

Blaine nodded mutely and allowed Kurt to guide him to the parking lot since he could barely see or keep his eyes open.

* * *

Burt yawned loudly as he settled down on the couch in the living room. It was unusual that he had a Friday off, but one of his mechanic's had needed to switch so he could attend his daughter's first soccer game of the school year. As a father himself, Burt always did his best to accommodate his guys when they wanted to switch to do things involving their kids. He never really had much to attend with Kurt since his son's Glee Club had yet to make it beyond Regionals, but he always hoped one day Kurt would suddenly take up another activity and make a friend of two.

He dug the remote out of the cushions as he slumped down and propped his feet up on the coffee table. It was early afternoon, and for once he'd allowed himself to stay in bed until noon and relax while trying not to think about how miserable his only son was. A full day of relaxation wasn't a luxury he usually allowed himself, but right now he needed it. There was so much for Burt to think over and decide on when it came to Kurt. Carole kept nudging him to at least start dropping hints to his boy about how supportive he was of Kurt's sexuality, but he still hesitated. To him, Kurt coming out wasn't something that could be forced and he didn't want to smother him when Kurt never seemed to want that sort of affection. It was so confusing to figure out the best course of action, but Burt hated the idea of never having that huge moment with Kurt. In another two years Kurt would be off to college, finally stretching his wings and discovering his first love where it was safe and possible to do so.

The thought that Kurt might keep it from him even then nagged at him constantly. He didn't want Kurt to think their relationship was closed off and that Burt would disapprove and cut him from his life for something like that, but he didn't want to force his son out either. Somehow he had to find a middle ground that got his love and acceptance across to Kurt without scaring him.

As Burt mindlessly flipped through the channels for something of interest the front door creaked open. The usual click of Kurt's fancy dress shoes echoed over to Burt a second later as the door was closed.

"Hey, Kurt!" he hollered, clearing his throat at how hoarse he sounded. Thoughts of his son and the roadblock in their relationship always got to him in ways nothing else could. That feeling, more than anything else, told him he had to say something soon before this disconnection ruined them.

Kurt's footsteps paused and then, much to Burt's surprise, he heard his son whispering. Confused, Burt sat up a little straighter and waited to see if Kurt would come to him or if he'd head down to his room without a hello. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, but the whispers made him suspect something was up and that he'd have to follow Kurt downstairs if he wasn't given an answer.

The click of Kurt's shoes started up again, growing closer and with a strange echoing noise to them as though someone else was walking with him, slightly off-step. More than curious at this point, Burt turned the volume down as Kurt appeared in the archway that separated the hall from the living room.

"Hi, Dad," he said softly, nervously.

A second later, Burt understood why. Another boy appeared behind him, slightly shorter with... blue tinted skin? McKinley's latest slushy victim, by the looks of him. One Kurt had surprisingly taken an interest in. Burt knew the other members of the Glee Club had had their fair share of frozen drinks tossed in their faces, but Kurt had never brought one home before. Burt tried his best not to stare or look overly curious, but his heart hammered at the sight. This boy... did his son finally have a friend?

"Hey, bud," Burt replied gently, still eyeing the boy lingering behind his son. He couldn't make out much about him since Kurt had him tucked behind his body. "You gonna introduce me to your blue friend?"

"Wh– oh, this um," Kurt paused and glanced over his shoulder and the enormous smile that took over his features made the inside of Burt's eyelids burn.

He'd waited eight years to see that smile return and brush the dust off the corners of Kurt's lips that hung lower everyday with the weight of his solitude. It was more beautiful and full than Burt remembered it being when he'd come home to find Kurt and Elizabeth snuggled up on the couch and giggling as they painted each other's nails or looked through a much of fashion magazines. No expression was quite like the one on Kurt's face right now, and while it was like that old smile, it was also something newly discovered and different after years of hibernation.

Burt might not even know this boy's name but he liked him already if he could get that reaction out of Kurt without any effort. The other boy stepped carefully around Kurt and Burt was immediately struck with a sense of familiarity. Something about this kid plucked at his memories; the neatly (now very wet) styled hair, the easy, charming smile, and the bright eyes. He took in the boy's clothes: a pair of dark jeans and a tucked in polo shirt that ended with a neat little bow tie around the collar. He'd definitely been "slushied" like Kurt had a number of times before – his clothes were stained, soaked, and undoubtedly ruined. He kept rubbing at his red eyes and wincing under his breath, despite the impressively honest smile gracing his lips. It wasn't until the boy introduced himself that the reality of what Burt was seeing hit him.

"I'm Blaine, sir, Blaine Anderson," the boy offered, holding his wet, blue-tinted hand out and Burt knew his eyes had just burst out of their sockets.

That was the same name Kurt had prattled on about for months as a child. He remembered the vivid descriptions Kurt had once given him and his various therapists. A slightly off-center nose, curls gelled and parted to one side, and a smile that lit up the whole room. It was no wonder that Kurt was beaming right now, because somehow, miraculously, this boy was just like the one he'd imagined as a child.

"Burt Hummel," Burt finally greeted cautiously, shaking Blaine's hand and trying to stop himself from flinching at how surreal it was to touch this kid. It must just be a coincidence. It wasn't possible for his son to see into the future to this bright, smiling boy who was still dripping from a slushy dumped over his head. It also wasn't possible for Kurt's imagination to manifest this boy into existence and yet...

Kurt kept smiling widely as they shook hands and then he scooped Blaine's arm up between his and led him into the kitchen. The gesture startled Burt more than Blaine introducing himself – Kurt never made a move to touch someone else first. More often than not he avoided contact with other people at all costs.

"I'm going help him clean up," Kurt told him as they passed back behind the couch to the kitchen. "He um, this was his first slushy and a lot of it got in his eyes."

Blaine gave a helpful wince to prove Kurt's point and then the two disappeared into the connecting kitchen behind Burt. Still reeling, Burt turned the volume up to its normal level, but he didn't focus on the television. This was weird, almost alarmingly so. What were the odds of this kid having the exact same name as that boy from so long ago?

Burt ran through a number of possibilities in his head. Kurt might have pretended Blaine, an actual kid at his school who he'd liked at the time, was an older, intelligent, and kind boy to help him with his grief. It wasn't improbable that he would project something like that after Elizabeth's death, but it didn't account for why Kurt had never tried to befriend him before or why this was Blaine's first slushy. Burt remembered exactly how adamant Kurt had been about every little detail of Blaine. From his age to his height, to the features of his face and the quality of his voice, Kurt always had a long-winded answer for it all. It was hard to forget something his young son had clung so desperately to and then something that had begun to frighten Burt since the older boy didn't seem to exist.

From the kitchen he heard the splash of water in the sink and Blaine's voice, magnified and echoing from having his head in the sink, asking Kurt to be careful because that eye was _sore_. Bemused, Burt tried to catch snippets of their conversation, but with the television going it was impossible. Something felt... odd about all of this; suspicious, but in a non-threatening way that didn't make sense to Burt. He couldn't place what the meaning was with this or how any of it was possible. It had to be a coincidence. It just had to be.

A few minutes later, the water shut off and he heard Kurt's footsteps heading back his way. His son passed by the couch and tossed over his shoulder, "I'll go see if I have anything for you to change into so we can wash those, okay? You'll be okay watching – " he glanced at the television " the football game with my Dad for a bit, right?"

Behind Burt, Blaine's voice, bright and slightly amused at Kurt's obvious worry, was assuring. "Don't worry. I love the Buckeyes. They've been my favorite team for a long time."

"Okay," Kurt beamed, "just– I'll be back in a minute."

"Sure."

Kurt dashed from the room, his bedroom door opening a second later, followed by the loud clomping of his feet going down the wooden stair case. Burt finally looked up when he caught Blaine moving towards the side of the couch. His face and hair was damp, and the dish towel that usually hung from the oven was draped around his neck. He looked a lot younger without the product; his dark curls were free and slowly springing into spirals. The smile from earlier was still on Blaine's lips, but it was dimmer, less sure now that Kurt had disappeared. A small trickle of pride at the fear there ran through Burt for a second before he motioned for Blaine to join him. At least the kid wasn't daft enough to try to play buddy-buddy with him right away.

"This your first slushy, huh?" Burt asked gruffly as Blaine sat down carefully on the other end of the couch.

"Yes, sir, Dalton never had slushies," he explained. "They didn't tolerate bullying. That's why my parents sent me there."

Burt ran the name through his mind, trying to place it. It sounded familiar, though after living in the same region of Ohio for his entire life Burt knew the public high schools and their names quite well. It must be a private or Catholic school somewhere that he wasn't familiar with, but it could just as easily be out-of-state or on the other side of Columbus. Blaine seemed like he would have fit in at a place of that sort, but that didn't explain why in the world he would transfer from somewhere prestigious to McKinley. Most private high schools tended to having boarding options around here since it was the middle of nowhere.

"So you're new around here? Where'd you move from? Out of state?" Burt persisted, firing his questions off in rapid succession and hoping that the faster they rolled out the more likely it would be that Blaine would give him the truth since he'd have less time to think. He wasn't entirely sure what he hoped to gain from the boy beyond a background, but that sense of familiarity wouldn't quit. Every little nuance about Blaine, from his easy posture to the curve of his jaw kept bringing back old phrases of memory that his son had once spoken.

_"And he's got the best, biggest eyes and eyelashes that are longer than my fingers... "_

_"His eyebrows look like triangles and I told him so and he got mad, but he wasn't _really_ mad, Daddy, so don't worry."_

"– Mr. Hummel? Sir?"

Burt shook himself and looked over at Blaine. The boy looked concerned and a little frightened by Burt drifting off into his thoughts. He tried to recall what Blaine had just been saying, but his mind immediately filled up with his little boy's eight year old voice telling him all of the things about the boy sitting beside him.

"Sorry, got distracted by the game," Burt lied, shifting his gaze to the television and trying to look interested. For the first time in a long time the prospect of a football game did little for him. "So are you from out of state, then? I've never heard of Dalton."

"It's in Westerville," Blaine explained. "And it's a small private school. Me and my brother just moved out here last week. Today was my first day at McKinley and well... " He gestured to his stained clothes and wet hair. "Not the best impression, I guess."

"Of McKinley or you?" Burt wondered out loud before he could stop himself. He found it a little odd that Blaine had specifically said he and his brother had moved out here without a mention of their parents, but he didn't ask. Some things, especially if that meant what he thought it might, were too personal when two people were just getting to know each other.

Blaine laughed. "Both by the looks of it. They didn't like... well, they didn't think I should be hanging out with Kurt and," he paused and shrugged, "they didn't like it when I defended him."

Burt tilted his chin up at Blaine's words, eyeing the boy appraisingly. He'd stood up for Kurt, maybe even taken the slushies for him. It made perfect sense that Kurt had brought him home after that, even disregarding the name and similarities to his imaginary childhood friend. Nobody ever seemed to choose Kurt, regardless of what the other option was.

"Thank you," he finally said. It was simple and soft, his voice losing its usual gruffness as he nodded towards Blaine and then shifted his eyes back towards the television.

Blaine nodded slowly, and out of the corner of his eye Burt could see the boy watching him with interest as Kurt's shoes clip-clopped loudly up the stairs. A moment later he was skidding into the room, a startling sight for Burt to behold since Kurt was always so stoic and dreary. This new, chipper, beaming boy was something remarkable and breath-taking.

"I've got so many outfit ideas for you," Kurt gushed, grappling for Blaine's hand to yank him up off the couch. "Do you prefer red or green? I couldn't decide, honestly I think most colors would work with your skin tone, Blaine, but I've got a bunch laid out downstairs and– "

With a grin and a laugh, Blaine let himself be led from the living room, offering Burt a small wave as Kurt kept prattling on excitedly. It took Burt several minutes after they disappeared downstairs to realize there were tears running down his cheeks and salting up his lips. That smile that had graced Kurt's face just now was all he'd wanted and been hoping for since Kurt started middle school. It was wide and full and the brightest, most relaxed Kurt had looked since he'd stopped talking about Blaine as a young boy – since his mother had died, if he was perfectly honest with himself.

Burt didn't understand how anything with this new Blaine and the made up Blaine added up, but he was incredibly grateful for this new young man nonetheless. His son had his first real friend, someone who had stuck up for him, and seemed to indulge his fashion interests and the various other parts of him Burt didn't understand or know about. That was all Burt wanted for him, and if he could have that instead of Kurt's deepest trust right now, then he'd take it. He'd accept anything that made his son happy again.


	6. Chapter 5: The First Clue

A/N: Yaaaay, it's updating day! So, yup, um, enjoy. I really don't have anything else to say but that.

**Too Late**

**Chapter 5: The First Clue**

The first thing Blaine noticed when his feet hit the bottom landing of the Hummel's basement was that it wasn't really a basement at all. The entire basement, though not very large, had been re-furnished into a makeshift, decent-sized bedroom that was tastefully decorated and that Blaine immediately identified with Kurt. This was Kurt's bedroom. It was in a different location than Kurt had described to him eight years ago and definitely not decorated with a mixture of princesses and Power Rangers, but there was no other room it could be.

A deep maroon carpeting had been laid down across the entire room and the walls were the same color of the houses cinder block foundation. As Blaine stepped off the last step, his footsteps fell silent as he looked around and tried to keep up with Kurt's rapid-fire discussion of outfits for him.

" – and then I thought this olive sweater would go better with your eyes, but it might still be too warm for it, um... " Kurt trailed away. He looked embarrassed and flushed as he spun back towards Blaine, who was staring around at the dark wooden furniture, the plethora of musical posters, and the many drapes and scarves hung about to splash little accents of color throughout the room.

He didn't know much about interior decorating, but the room was very nice in Blaine's eyes.

"Anything's fine with me," he said after a moment, shifting his gaze from a poster advertising a musical called _Wicked_ and over to Kurt, who was biting his lip and looking nervous as he watched Blaine. "Really," he added earnestly, smiling once more. "Anything is better than these wet clothes, and judging by what you're wearing, I'm about to be better dress than I ever have in my entire life."

A slow, tentative smile spread across Kurt's face as he clapped his hands and skipped over to the various clothes laid out on his bed and hung from his desk chair. Blaine's stomach twisted at the look Kurt had just given him. One little compliment shouldn't make Kurt beam like that. He should be praised every day by his father, his friends, the people who saw his talents shine. It was hard to swallow the thought that the same boy he'd left behind hadn't really been helped much at all by him the first time. That had to be why they'd chosen him for this one, and not just to overcome his own similar bullying struggles in his life. Kurt still needed him because, in some way, Blaine must have failed him the first time.

"So maroon or olive?" Kurt asked, spinning back towards him with two shirts draped over himself for Blaine to view.

The look in his eyes was so hopeful, so grateful at just having someone around, that Blaine realized that regardless of whatever the full reason was for him being here that he was glad he was. He didn't want to imagine how much worse everything would be for Kurt if he didn't have someone to make him smile like that.

"Maroon," Blaine decided, eyeing the polo carefully. It didn't look like anything Kurt would ever wear, which surprised him, but perhaps it had been something a relative had bought him on a birthday or holiday. Even now, he still remembered the dozens of outfits his grandmother would buy for him that were always Cooper's size because she'd been adamant that he was still growing. Blaine had never had the heart to tell her his legs weren't going to do anything but start shrinking in another couple of decades.

"Great!" Kurt chirped, setting the soft-looking sweater aside and then shuffling through several pairs of pants and jeans he'd piled up.

Blaine watched it all with wide eyes, barely able to keep up with Kurt's ecstatic monologue or his furious arranging of garments. After several moments, Kurt stood up and handed Blaine a pair of well worn jeans, the red polo, plain boxers, and a pair of socks. Blaine was very happy he wouldn't have to ask for either of the last two. His socks were completely soaked through and his underwear were clinging to him in all the wrongs ways. He wouldn't be surprised to find a trail of his own footprints circling upstairs and then down the stairs to where he was standing right now.

"Thanks, really, this is very nice of you," Blaine said gratefully, accepting the clothing. "You didn't have to bother with all of this– "

"I remember my first slushy," Kurt told him softly. "They aren't fun, and well, you stood up for me, Blaine. Nobody's ever done that before."

The look on Kurt's face made Blaine pause. There was so much for his eyes to capture in that instant – hurt, familiarity, and most importantly kindness and hope. Kurt was still that young boy he remembered. Still witty and cheeky, but with a tough exterior he'd put up after years of heartache and loneliness. Somehow he was going to make Kurt happy again. He'd find a way to stop everything terrible that was a part of his life, and make sure he never ended up how Blaine had.

"The bathroom's over there," Kurt told him, pointing towards the wall lined with bookshelves.

With a nod, Blaine ducked over into the bathroom and took his time changing. He ignored the reflection of his skinny, sixteen year old self in the mirror and struggled into Kurt's jeans and shirt. They were both rather big on him, but Kurt was taller than himself and no doubt still growing broader and filling out in a way he never had. His clothes had to be a little bigger for his growing body.

When Blaine was sure he was zipped up and straightened out, he made one desperate attempt to tame his dried curls, but gave up rather quickly. Kurt's sink was enclosed by a large collection of beauty and hair products, but he didn't dare touch any of them. The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward, use the wrong one, or to upset Kurt when he was just starting to get to know him.

Back in Kurt's room, Kurt had cleared away all the other outfits and clothes and was sitting on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands and looking nervous again.

"Hey, do– they're a little big, sorry– " Kurt gushed immediately, hopping up and eyeing Blaine. "I mean you'll grow into them, of course, and _I'll_ never wear them, not my style, but– "

"Hey, woah, relax, okay? They're perfect and very dry," Blaine assured him, slowly and carefully taking Kurt by the shoulders and guiding him back towards his bed. He tried to ignore the way Kurt tensed at the touch, but it was rather difficult. Kurt never used to do that. He's always smiled brightly when Blaine had taken his hand. But he'd also never been through all of the things he had now. Life was very different at sixteen than at eight, and for Blaine it was still difficult for him to grapple with connecting that gap in his mind. How had that eight year old become the lonely, scared boy in front of him?

"They– really? You're sure? They aren't too– "

"Boys! Dinner's ready!"

They both startled at Burt's holler from the top of the stairs. Kurt's gaze remained on the stairs, but Blaine carefully folded up his damp clothes and picked up his shoes.

"They're great, Kurt, _really_," he assured him. "Come on, I'm starving."

Kurt still looked uncertain, but he followed Blaine back upstairs, helped him douse his clothes in stain remover, and then chucked them into the washing machine.

Burt was waiting for them with a giant bowl of pasta and another, smaller one filled with some type of pinkish sauce. When they shuffled in, Burt looked up and smiled easily. It was strange for Blaine to see, despite only knowing the man for half an hour. Kurt's father didn't seem like the type that smile a lot; he seemed troubled by his son's silence and general situation in life, but Blaine wasn't sure how deep those troubled thoughts went.

The one thing that had become obvious to him since he'd stepped foot in the Hummel's home was that Kurt and his father were in a rough place with each other. They weren't communicating. Kurt was as civil with Burt as he was with any of their teachers at school. He could tell without a doubt that Burt loved his son, but at this point Blaine had a good idea that part of his task with Kurt was helping him along on his journey to being open with his sexuality. The first step for that would be helping Kurt tell Burt. It was just a hunch for now, but Blaine had the terrible suspicion that Burt had no idea that Kurt was gay, or at the very least was in denial or had not had a real conversation with Kurt about it.

Helping someone come out wasn't a first for Blaine. In fact, the majority of his missions had involved comforting people as they struggled with acceptance for who they were and then for how their loved ones would react. He was still feeling out Burt and his possible reactions, but the moment in the living room made him hopeful. Burt clearly loved his son, but he was at a loss for what to do to help make his life better.

"Figured I'd go with something simple," Burt offered, motioning for the two of them to grab plates from the open cabinet and to dig in. Kurt gave his father a contemptuous look and tutted under his breath. "It's not _that_ unhealthy, Kurt– "

"You've heard what the doctor keeps saying, Dad," Kurt said loftily, fixing his father with a glare as he took down two plates and handed one to Blaine. "You aren't a teenager. You can't just eat anything you want anymore."

"It's that organic stuff you insist on buying, " Burt argued, looking exasperated. "Look, its quick and simple and better than me burning down the house trying to make one of those fancy health meals you insist on, okay, buddy?"

Kurt turned to snap back, paused when he met his father's gaze, and instead pursed his lips. There was definite tension between them and Blaine couldn't help but believe it was for more reasons than one. Burt's health seemed to be an issue. He added the potential problem to his mental list that was growing impossibly longer with every minute he was with Kurt. The one thing he knew with certainty was that Kurt and Burt needed to start talking, _really_ talking, instead of skirting around each other. For now, that would be Blaine's first task until he got to know them both better.

"It looks delicious, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said cheerfully, giving Kurt a soft smile as he set his plate down and pulled the chair next to his out, motioning for Kurt to take it.

With a last look, Kurt accepted the seat and let Blaine push him in. He was surprised to find Burt watching their interaction when he turned to look back at him, and the look was... well, it wasn't unfriendly, but Blaine wasn't sure if it was welcoming or not. As Burt took his seat across from them, Blaine did his best to recall everything he'd read about the man in his file. Surely he would have remembered a sentence or two about Burt being hostile towards potential friends for his son or any sort of "more than friendly" interaction between two boys. His skin prickled as Burt scrutinized him from across the dish of pasta. Maybe he just didn't know what to make of him. If Kurt wasn't accustom to having friends, then Burt certainly wasn't used to having any around the house.

They all filled their plates up and began eating in silence. Blaine wondered if Burt would mention the chair pushing. It was good manners Blaine had had drilled into him as a young boy, though the etiquette had been towards woman, or more specifically important ladies in his life. He'd always switched the girlfriend part to a boyfriend in his mind, but Kurt wasn't that. The very thought was ridiculous for a number of reasons. He'd just wanted to be friendly and keep the peace for a few minutes. Perhaps Burt would bring up what Blaine was curious about on his own.

"So, you said you like football, right?"

Blaine glanced up and found Burt's forkful of pasta directed at him. He nodded eagerly.

"Yes, sir. The Buckeyes are my favorite college team," Blaine answered immediately. "They've done really well with Tressel coaching. I think they'll go all the way this year."

"Nah," Burt disagreed. "The team's still good, but I think he's wearing down. Do you play at all?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head. "No, sir. I don't really have the football build. I box and I'm going to try out for the Glee Club."

"Oh yeah? What's your girlfriend think of that?"

Kurt's fork clattered loudly against his plate and Blaine glanced over at him. His face was red and his fingers were shaky as he scooped the fork back up. He looked terrified by the question, and Blaine briefly wondered if Burt had ever asked him the same thing. Blaine knew from his own life that such a question was painful to swallow when the answer was, and always would be, no. Burt shot Kurt a concerned glance as he started eating again, then returned his gaze to Blaine.

"Um...," Blaine smiled ruefully and chuckled. "I've never had a girlfriend." After a split-second of hesitation he added, "I never plan on having one either. I'm gay, sir."

The kitchen fell silent and Blaine couldn't decide who's face was funnier. Kurt was gaping at him as though Blaine had just signed off on his own death sentence and Burt was looking rather stunned and surprised, but not alarmingly so. It was a relief to see Burt not looking angry or disgusted by his confession. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as Blaine had originally thought. Burt wasn't hostile towards the idea so far, but Kurt... Kurt had gone back to looking scared, his eyes fixed on his father now, waiting for his vocal reaction to Blaine's words.

"Oh," Burt muttered. He stuffed a forkful of pasta into his mouth, chewed for a few moments, swallowed and asked, "A boyfriend then? He big on Glee and all this theatre stuff, too?"

"Dunno," Blaine replied, shrugging a little as Kurt continued to stare at him in amazement. "I'll ask him whenever I meet him."

Burt nodded several times and ate another bite of pasta. "Fair enough. I imagine it's, uh... not easy to find another gay boy around here," he said slowly and his eyes shifted towards Kurt for just a fraction of a second, but now it was Blaine's fork's turn to hit his plate.

Burt knew Kurt was gay.

He already knew it and from what Blaine could tell he didn't care in the slightest. Just as quickly, Burt's eyes flickered back to his plate, but Blaine had caught it all, even if Kurt hadn't noticed. It didn't matter to Burt and that was a relief in so many ways. At least one part of Kurt's life would be easy and maybe these two would finally open up to each other if Blaine could get Kurt to open up to him first. That had to be the thing preventing these two from being honest with each other. Kurt was scared, and given the reactions he got at school, Blaine didn't blame him in the slightest. His father, for all his apparent love and support, was a very imposing man and fit the stereotypical look and interests of a homophobic man. It was no wonder Kurt was scared to tell him.

"I haven't really been looking," Blaine remarked casually. "It'd just make things more difficult and I've got a lot of other things to focus on right now if I want to get into a good college."

Burt nodded, but it was slower, more thoughtful as his eyes shifted to Kurt who was staring down at his plate and shuffling his pasta back and forth. They both watched Kurt for a moment and Blaine knew Kurt was beyond confused by his father's reaction just now. He certainly had his work cut out for him now that he knew what he needed to do. Kurt wasn't going to be easy to convince when it came to telling Burt the truth, but Blaine could see the obvious strain between them. More importantly, he saw the worry in Burt's eyes when he looked at his son and the hope that had just been sparked there by Blaine's sexuality. Blaine couldn't offer anything more than friendship given his circumstances, but he would give these two back their relationship even if it took the rest of his time here.

* * *

Kurt spent the entire weekend thinking over what had happened at dinner on Friday night. His father's reaction to Blaine revealing that he was gay had been remarkable to him. He hadn't ordered Blaine to leave and never come back, hadn't even acted disgusted or uncomfortable. Instead of asking how or why, he'd corrected himself and asked if Blaine had a boyfriend.

It didn't make any sense to Kurt. He'd spent the last handful of years vehemently refusing to acknowledge that he was gay, and then finally accepting himself, but still not being able to tell anyone the truth. There was no one to tell the truth to besides his father, and Burt had always seemed so... not gay-friendly. As Kurt worked through his homework, he desperately tried to recall a time when Burt had mentioned homosexuality in a negative way, but after six hours and a pile of completed homework he only came up blank.

How had he missed it? Did his father already know he was gay and was just waiting for him to tell him?

Kurt couldn't believe that. Burt Hummel didn't sit around and wait for other people to start talking. If he knew the truth or even suspected, then Kurt would be out and his father would react however he chose to. No, Burt probably didn't know the truth. If he did, his reaction would undoubtedly be very different when it was his son instead of some boy he'd just met and hadn't seen since.

By Monday, Kurt had convinced himself that his father could still never know the truth. The truth would ruin what was left of their relationship and potentially make the only easy part of his life hell. He left for school after a solitary breakfast, and was almost at his locker when a voice trickled over his shoulder.

"Hey, stranger," Blaine greeted, his voice bright and happy. The sound of it made Kurt's heart soar even as he did his best to ignore the sensation. He was still hopelessly suspicious of Blaine and why he looked like the boy he remembered, but for now he had no real reason to doubt his friendliness. If Kurt was honest, he loved having him around. It was so easy to let himself go around the other boy. He felt like he already knew him and had to keep reminding himself that he didn't. This wasn't the boy from the park and tea parties.

"Hi," Kurt replied as he stopped in front of his locker and started twisting the lock. To his surprise, Blaine began fumbling with the one a few to his right.

"How was your weekend?" Blaine chirped, quickly rotating his books in and out as Kurt paused to watch. Nothing fazed him. Even stating that he was gay hadn't made Blaine bat an eyelash. Kurt envied that confidence. It was something he'd wished for a long time, but had never happened. Being strong only went so far when there was nobody to fall back on.

"Fine, lots of homework," Kurt replied softly, turning his gaze back to the contents of his locker. He eyed the little music posters and fashion collages he'd created for the inside. Even without them the entire school knew he was gay without him saying anything. Surely his father wasn't blind enough not to notice. His own dad had to at least pay enough attention to see how much he was hurting.

"Yeah, I had a lot of catch-up work," Blaine agreed smoothly, shutting his locker and circling around to the other side of Kurt so that he could see him. He frowned when he met Kurt's gaze and Kurt turned his tearful eyes back towards his locker. "Hey, what's up?" Blaine murmured in concern. He glanced around and then leaned in further. "You– did someone try to rough you up or– "

Kurt shook his head as he willed his tears not to fall. He was already made fun of enough at school; crying would only make the teasing worse.

"How did your parents react when you came out?"

Blaine stiffened beside him and Kurt watched the other boy's expression falter and then droop. It was exactly what Kurt had expected and everything he feared. His own father was fine with Blaine, sure, but Blaine's own parents apparently hadn't taken to the idea at all.

"They... well, it was... difficult at first," Blaine explained quietly. "I mean, they tried to ignore it and insist I was saying that to upset them and that I needed to see a specialist at our church, but... they accepted it eventually. Before they died at any rate."

For a moment, Kurt was sure his heart had stopped. Blaine's parents were dead. Both of them. But that would mean–

"Blaine, your– I'm sorry– "

Blaine shrugged easily and Kurt relaxed slightly at the reaction. He didn't seem hurt or concerned at all about the fact. It must have been an old wound, something he barely remembered, unlike Kurt who still thought of his own mother every day.

"It's fine, I live with my brother and he's always been great about it," Blaine told him. "My parents got it in the end, and well, my grandfather... he never really did. He still doesn't."

"Oh," Kurt replied quietly, watching Blaine for any signs of sadness, but he found none and it unnerved him. It almost made him feel like Blaine was lying. It didn't seem possible for him to not feel something about his parents being dead and yet he smiled once more and nudged Kurt playfully with his elbow.

"Your dad's already got a leg up on them," Blaine smiled. "I didn't think he'd take me being gay so well the other night, but... he surprised me."

"Yeah, h- he surprised me, too," Kurt muttered softly.

The first bell of the morning rang overhead and the students around them slowly began making their ways to their homerooms. Kurt lingered at his locker, still trading out notebooks and textbooks as Blaine leaned against the closed lockers beside him, looking thoughtful.

"For what it's worth, I don't think he'll be upset," Blaine said slowly, quietly. "I wish my parents had been more like your dad. He seems wonderful."

_He is_.

The instantaneous thought was like a slap across Kurt's face. His father was amazing; loving and caring and more than he could have ever asked for. But Kurt was scared. So many possibilities and horrible reactions and coming out stories had been running about in his mind for almost two years. Anything could happen and just because Burt was okay with Blaine didn't mean he'd be fine with his only son announcing he was gay.

Blaine bit his lip and shifted against the lockers as Kurt stayed silent. He couldn't tell him, but if even Blaine could tell the truth after less than a week, then surely his father had at least an inkling. Kurt wasn't sure if that thought was comforting or more terrifying. If Burt had his suspicions, but hadn't brought it up, then there had to be a reason for it.

"Sorry, that was overstepping," Blaine apologized as he pushed off from the lockers and hitched up his bag. "We better get to class," he added, glancing at the clock as Kurt shut his locker.

Before he realized it, Blaine's arm had tentatively looped through his and tightened. Immediately, Kurt looked around for a pack of jocks or even a passing student, but the hallways were empty now. He relaxed a little at that, but still kept himself upright and stiff. Anyone could appear at any moment and Blaine was so carefree about this. He wasn't sure why that surprised him, but it did.

"So I was thinking we could get coffee after school, consider it an apology for overstepping," Blaine offered. "I'll buy a grande non-fat mocha latte for you, free of charge."

Kurt smiled and agreed with a nod, but it was only after he'd been dropped off at his homeroom and the morning announcements were in progress that he realized that he'd never told Blaine his favorite coffee order.

For the rest of the week, little things like his coffee order kept cropping up in Blaine's speech. At first Kurt let it slide and tried desperately to recall mentioning any of it beforehand, but by Thursday he knew Blaine somehow had access to a lot of information Kurt had never told him. At least nothing he'd ever told _this_ Blaine.

On Monday, Blaine asked how Burt's shop was doing.

At lunch on Tuesday he mentioned Kurt's obsession with Alexander McQueen's designs and his worship of _The Golden Girls_. Kurt would have let it slide if Blaine hadn't tacked on the second piece of information. His love of Alexander McQueen should be apparent to anyone with an eye for his wardrobe and a knowledge of fashion.

By Thursday, however, Blaine had asked how his father's relationship with Carole Hudson was going, and Kurt finally called him on it. There was no logical way that Blaine knew all of these things about his life and truthfully, it was starting to unnerve him, despite Blaine's nonthreatening nature.

"– she sounds like she's pretty nice– "

"How in the world do you know that?" Kurt demanded in exasperation, fork hitting his lunch tray as he gave Blaine a furious look. "I've never even mentioned her– "

Blaine looked startled at Kurt's tone and for a moment Kurt could see the cogs in his head churning into overdrive. If Kurt hadn't been suspicious before, he certainly was now. Blaine knew seemingly everything about him, just like the boy from his childhood had. There were so many similarities, even outside of physical appearance and for Kurt the list was getting too long to keep going unnoticed. Something was up and there was some sort of connection, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine what it was.

"Oh, Finn's in my weight lifting class," Blaine lied smoothly, lips quirked up in a small smile. "He mentioned it since he's seen us hanging out."

Kurt decided to play along instead of calling Blaine out for his lie. He'd rather figure out the reason for it on his own. First, he'd ask Finn at dinner tonight if he'd ever even spoken to Blaine, and then...

Well he didn't really know how to follow up after that. How could he prove that the Blaine he was slowly becoming friends with was the same boy, right down to his hair style and age, as the Blaine he'd befriended eight years ago?

Suddenly Mr. Schuester appeared behind Blaine, looking cheerful and excited.

"Hey, guys," he greeted, giving them a little wave as he stopped at the table. Not for the first time he did a double take when he looked at Blaine. Kurt wasn't sure why, but he was starting to get the impression it was for the same reason Kurt was suspicious. Ever since Blaine's Glee Club audition on Monday, during which he'd killed an old Queen song, much to the club's enjoyment, Mr. Schuester had been looking at him oddly. It was almost as if he, too, recognized Blaine from another time.

That was ridiculous, of course. Even Kurt thinking he recognized him was impossible.

"So I've got a great idea for a boy bands versus girl bands from the nineties lesson for next week," he told them happily, still watching Blaine with interest. "I think it'll really help fire everyone up for Sectionals in November."

"Will there be Britney?" Kurt asked hopefully. "Spice Girls is the only really noteworthy girl band... "

"I– she's not the greatest role model, Kurt, but... I'll think it over," Mr. Schuester said uncertainly, but his gaze was still fixed on Blaine, who was starting to look creeped out.

"Is there something on my face, Mr. Schue?" Blaine asked after another moment.

With a jolt, Mr. Schuester shook himself and tried to smile but failed. "No, there's– sorry," he added sheepishly. "You just... you look almost identical to this kid that went here when I did. He died the year I graduated, and I swear his name was– "

"Blaine Anderson?" Blaine offered, looking uninterested. "Yeah, that was my dad's younger brother," Blaine added with an easy shrug. "He drowned in his junior year, I think. It was a few years after my dad graduated from here. I'm not sure on much of it, just that my dad named me after him since I was born not long after. I guess it worked out pretty well, too," Blaine said with a little laugh. "You're not the only one who's been looking at me like they've seen a ghost."

Eyes closed and nodding vigorously, Mr. Schuester seemed to accept the story for the truth, but to Kurt it didn't make sense for his own recollections. Mr. Schuester had graduated either before or around the time Kurt was born. His supposed uncle who had died then wouldn't have been around a decade later to be part of Kurt's memories.

He watched the two talk about Mr. Schuester's latest idea as he started to form a plan in his own mind. Blaine's uncle would be pictured in McKinley's old yearbooks, and so would his father, too, if Blaine's story was true. Kurt didn't know what the pictures would tell him yet, but he was positive that Blaine was lying. If he was lucky the boy in the old photographs would be identical and from there he'd corner Blaine and demand answers. An old yearbook photo wasn't much, but it was a place to start with the mystery of the many Blaine Andersons.


	7. Chapter 6: Coming Out

A/N: Little later than usual, but still Monday! The one bad thing about summer is that I know work Monday evenings. Or there's a good chance of it with a new availability. They'll probably be a little later than before, depending on my schedule.

Anyway, enjoy the update, have a good week, and I'll see you all next Monday!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 6: Coming Out**

Fridays were Carole's favorite day of the week. It typically meant a long day of work and emergencies at the hospital, but afterwards she always had a nice evening to look forward to at the Hummel's home. This evening in particular would be eventful. Burt had called her during her lunch break and told her that Kurt had convinced his new friend to come over once again.

Carole had heard a lot about Blaine Anderson in the last week and she was already quite smitten with the very idea of him. He sounded just like what Kurt had been needing and missing from his life, and to top it all off he was also gay. Carole hoped that would help encourage Kurt to come out to his father some time soon. Everything she'd heard made her very hopeful that Kurt and Burt would soon be back on track and that their relationship wouldn't be so tense and distant. She only wanted what was best for both of them, even if they were both too stubborn to make it happen.

"Judy, I'm going to get going, okay?" she called, signing out on her last check sheet and ducking down to grab her purse.

Judy waved her off with a pleasant, "Have a nice night with your guys!" and then disappeared to start making her next set of rounds.

Carole quickly gathered up her coat, made sure she had her phone, then headed to the elevator, and outside to her car. The drive over to Burt's home was quiet for a Friday evening, but Carole was glad for it. She was distracted by her own excitement and the things Burt had been telling her about Kurt since she'd last seen him. Burt had said he'd changed in incredible ways, going from a sad, dejected looking boy to someone bubbling over with happiness every time Blaine was with him. It was encouraging to hear after everything Carole knew he was hiding and everything he'd been through since his mother had died eight years ago. She only hoped it all worked out as she thought it would.

The driveway was packed full when she pulled up to the curb. Finn was here, too. She wondered if he knew Blaine through school already and if he did, how they got along. Carole already knew that Kurt and Finn were cordial with each other at best, and she hoped as Kurt learned to open up about himself to all of them that that would change.

"Burt? Burt, I'm here!"

Her voice echoed throughout the main level of the house and was greeted by two shouts, one from the kitchen and the other from the living room.

"Hey, Mom!"

"In the kitchen, Carole!"

She shrugged her coat off and draped it over the hooks by the front door, glancing at Kurt's closed bedroom door. That wasn't unusual. She set her purse down on the little table where everyone's car keys were, and stepped into the living room where her son was watching television.

"Hi, sweetheart, how was practice?" she greeted, pecking him on the cheek as she glanced at the screen. Football, of course. Nothing new with Finn.

"Muddy," Finn informed her. "Took almost an hour for me to get it out of my ears."

Nose crinkled up in disgust, Carole leaned down and checked his ears just to make sure he really had gotten all the mud. When they passed her cleanliness test, she gave his shoulder a pat and stood up.

"How's Quinn?"

"Good, she wants me to come over tomorrow for dinner with her parents," Finn answered, eyes never leaving the television.

"That's fine," Carole told him, patting his shoulder once more and then turning to head into the kitchen. "Tell her parents hello for me."

Finn grunted in acknowledgement as Carole left him with his football game. Burt was at the stove when she entered the kitchen, baseball cap slightly crooked and sweat lining his brow. She smiled at the sight and hurried over to help. Burt startled a little as she leaned up to peck him on the cheek, but smiled brightly when he saw her.

"Hi," he greeted sweetly, setting his spoon down for a moment to kiss her properly.

"Hello," she replied, accepting his kiss and eyeing the selections of food he'd prepared so far. "I see you've been busy."

"Yeah, well, I figured we'd do this thing right for once," he offered with a small shrug, but the smile on his face told her a million other things. He was beaming, relaxed and at ease in a way she'd never seem him.

When Burt had told her about how Kurt's life had been changing, she hadn't realized how drastically it would affect Burt, too.

"Well, it looks and smells great, dear," she congratulated him. "I see Finn's doing his usual."

Burt's smile turned rueful, but he nodded. "You can take the boy outta the game... "

She smiled, too, as he trailed away. It was certainly true with Finn. Everything was football and Quinn. It made things simple in a lot of ways, but she did wish he'd branch out and focus more on his grades, too. Burt turned back to the stove, stirring and checking a few pots as Carole stretched and sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter. She'd hoped that Burt would bring Kurt and his new friend up on his own so that she could meet this mystery boy, but...

"So... "she started slowly, crossing her legs and leaning forward. "Is he here?"

"Is who here?" Burt grunted, hissing as boiling water splashed out and hit his hand.

Exasperated, Carole huffed and sat up a little straighter. Sometimes he could be really single-minded.

"You know who," she remarked pointedly, and when Burt still didn't answer she persisted, "Blaine, Burt. _Blaine. _The little dreamboat of a boy Kurt's smitten with and who is his first real friend."

"Oh, yeah," Burt said, sucking on his burnt finger and then shaking it vigorously. "They're downstairs. As usual. They always hole up down there."

The fact that Burt said that so easily made Carole glad and a little concerned all at once. She was grateful that Kurt finally had a good friend in his life, but Blaine was also gay. The door was closed, and there were two hormonal, teenager boys in the basement with compatible sexualities. To her that wasn't something either of them were accustom to being around. Blaine was the first openly gay boy Kurt had ever met his own age. She imagined the same could easily be said for Blaine. Burt might not think much of it because Kurt wasn't out with him yet, but to Carole it was no different than if Finn was locked up in his room with Quinn. Burt continued to worry over his finger as Carole stood up and headed towards the living room.

"Dinner's almost ready, right?" she asked as she looked in on Finn watching his game.

"Yeah, why?"

"I'll just go... get Kurt and Blaine, okay?"

"Sure, suit yourself," Burt said gruffly, turning back to the stove and adjusting the temperature. "Damn thing... "

Carole hurried past Finn without a word, and paused in front of Kurt's closed door. She'd been down to Kurt's room a few times, but only by his invitation. She didn't want to intrude, but she didn't want the two of them to start doing anything that they weren't knowledgeable about or ready for. The idea of Kurt being ready for that seemed unlikely, but she didn't know anything about Blaine other than that he was incredibly charming and Kurt was smitten with him. That didn't seem like a great combination in her mind.

Carefully, Carole opened Kurt's door and listened. It was quiet. After several seconds the silence started to worry her, but then she heard the murmur of two voices, not breathless and ragged, but slow and steady. Thank god. She listened for a few more seconds, hopelessly curious about their conversation and wanting more than anything for it be Blaine encouraging Kurt like she hoped he would. Slowly, she started down the stairs, trying not to make a lot of noise until the television in the living room faded and their voices were loud enough for her to hear.

"I – you don't know that he'll– "

"Kurt, I... it's just a feeling, but he _loves_ you," another boy, Blaine, Carole assumed, insisted strongly. "He's your _dad_ and he didn't care when I said I was– "

"You aren't his _son_," Kurt's voice snapped, sounding terrified. "It's different," he added quietly after a moment. "_I'm _different."

Her heart fluttered painfully at the rejection in Kurt's voice. She'd known he was uncomfortable with himself, but hearing it so bluntly was hard to listen to. She dropped down onto the step, sitting and catching a glimpse of Kurt's room below. Kurt's back was to her and the bed, where another teenage boy was sitting cross-legged and watching Kurt hug himself tightly. He was quite handsome, just as Burt had described, and the concern on his face astonished her. These two had known each other for a week and already Blaine's eyes were full of a warmth and understanding that Carole had wanted for Kurt for as long as she'd known him.

Blaine bit his lip and watched Kurt for a few moments longer before sitting up on his knees and reaching out towards him.

"Come here," he said, his voice gentle. It reminded Carole of evenings by the fire, curled up in front of the couch on a thick rug with Christopher and a large plush blanket wrapped around them. This boy cared, truly cared and all of her earlier worries vanished.

Kurt turned slightly as Blaine's hand reached out for his and he accepted the touch immediately, linking their hands together until their fingers were intertwined. Blaine pulled him over to the bed, patting the spot in front of him until Kurt settled down and crossed his legs, too. It was astonishing to watch how easily Kurt allowed Blaine to touch him and guide him. Nobody else was even remotely close to having that same trust. The fact that this boy, a friend of seven days, had accomplished such a feat was rather impressive and it told Carole that he was something unique all on his own.

"I know that you're scared, Kurt," Blaine began softly. "Believe me, I've been there. Nothing about it is easy, but your father loves you. Even I can see that and I've only talked to him for maybe an hour total. I get that you're scared – I _respect_ that you're scared – but that's the thing of it, really. The greatest, most rewarding things in life are usually the scariest. That's how you know they're right, that they're worth the effort. There's no way around that, but I promise you no matter what, that being honest with him will make your life easier."

Easier, not better. Carole caught the difference immediately. She also could tell that Blaine, even after a brief period of time, had already grasped the strain in their relationship and that Burt most certainly wasn't going to react negatively. Kurt stared at Blaine for a long time after that. He was facing away from Carole, but she watched his hands grip Blaine's tightly between where their knee caps were brushing. It was a gentle pose; facing each other, hands clasped firmly between themselves. There was trust between them that already exceeded all of her expectations. She'd never seen Kurt so relaxed and peaceful. It was a wonderful change.

"I just– I don't want him to start treating me differently," Kurt whispered fearfully. "What if h- he can't meet me eyes anymore o- or starts trying to doing a bunch of macho stuff with me t- to try and, like, fix me or– "

"Hey, no," Blaine cut in vehemently. "There's nothing wrong with you – with us as people. Your dad won't do that. Mine, yes. Right up until the end," Blaine confessed, and Carole's brow wrinkled at his words. Was Blaine's father no longer a part of his life? Burt hadn't told her that, but perhaps he didn't know. "Trust me, your dad is pretty damn intimidating. He's a gruff kind of guy, but take it from an outsider looking in on you two – I think he just wants his little boy back. He wants you to talk to him, Kurt. _Please_, talk to him. He's not going to turn you out. I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life. If anything, I think he'll be thankful that you're trusting him enough to share this with him."

"I– you really think so?" Kurt muttered, voice cracking and a little deeper and gruffer than usual. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment.

"Yeah," Blaine said softly. "I really do. I wish I'd had a dad like yours. He might not entirely get it _yet_, but he seems willing to try, Kurt. Your his son and to him that's what's most important."

Kurt nodded weakly and retracted his hand to continue wiping at his tears. When he moved to hug himself tightly, Blaine did something that surprised Carole completely. He slid in closer and slowly pulled Kurt into a hug. It was gentle at first, and she could tell Kurt tensed slightly, but he relaxed after a moment and returned the embrace, loosely and then much tighter.

Yes, this boy was definitely everything Kurt needed right now. He was intelligent and encouraging and had been through what Kurt was struggling with right now. He cared and understood in a way nobody else ever had for Kurt and it amazed Carole to witness it.

"And you were right," Blaine murmured as he eased back and plopped back down on the bed across from Kurt. "You _are _different, but that's the best part about you, Kurt. You wouldn't be you without that difference, and yeah, right now the assholes at school like to get on you for it, but someday it's going to be what makes you into the incredible man I can already see."

Kurt's cheek pulled back and he half-laughed, half-cried as Blaine squeezed his hand once more. "You're too sweet for your own good, Blaine Anderson," he quipped playfully.

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it," Blaine replied with a grin. "And you are going to be amazing. It just takes some time to grow into your own skin."

"Thanks," Kurt said, wiping at his eyes once more and then standing up. "I'm gonna go wash my face, okay? Dinner's probably almost ready and I don't want my dad to think you made me cry– "

"Even though I sort of did?" Blaine teased, flashing a crooked smile at Kurt, who swatted at Blaine's head. He missed as Blaine ducked and toppled over backwards into the pillows.

"Yeah, well, it's the best cry I've had in a long time. I actually needed that one."

Carole watched Kurt circle around towards the stairs and then out of sight to the bathroom. Blaine's eyes followed him the entire time, his smile a little toothy and bright. She was already as smitten as Kurt with this boy for what he was doing and giving him. Judging by the sparkle in Blaine's eyes and the almost bashful tilt of his head, Kurt and her weren't the only ones smitten.

As silently as she could, Carole stood up and reached back to knock on the door before descending the stairs to pretend like she hadn't just listened to their heartfelt conversation. Blaine was looking towards her when she stepped onto the landing, a curious crinkle to his brow and a easy smile in place.

"You must be Blaine," she greeted, stepping down to shake his hand. "I'm Carole, Kurt's father's girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you," Blaine replied, smiling a little wider as he shook her hand and sat up straighter. "Kurt speaks highly of you."

"Word at the Hummel house is that he's quite impressed with you as well," she returned with a teasing smile. Blaine looked surprised and a faint red tint colored his cheeks for a moment.

"Really? I mean, we've only known each other for a week so... "

"Burt says he never shuts up about you," Carole informed him. "Is he in the bathroom?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Blaine said vaguely, clearly still hooked by her other comment. "Yeah, he's just freshening up before dinner."

"It's almost ready," she told him. For a second she watched his eyes flicker towards the bathroom, looking surprised, but pleased, before he looked back towards her. "I think we're all quite glad he has a good friend now," she added before she could talk herself out of it. "He hasn't had it easy since he was little."

"I know," Blaine agreed quietly. "He... he'll be all right. He's got his dad and you."

"And you now," Carole added brightly, but Blaine's smile faltered in a way that made Carole's heart stutter a little in her chest. He didn't look very sure of that answer; if anything he looked quite sure of the opposite. "I'll see you two upstairs, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Blaine responded, voice a little fainter as his gaze returned to the bathroom door.

Carole started to climb the stairs, but paused on the halfway landing and watched Blaine for a moment. He certainly seemed to like Kurt, as a friend and perhaps a little bit more, but he seemed... distant. Distant in a way she couldn't quite place. It was almost as if he knew he wouldn't be around for a long time, or perhaps knew he'd be leaving before long. That worried her, because it didn't make a whole lot of sense, especially with teenagers in today's world. There was still the internet and texting and a dozen other ways to keep in touch. Nothing compared to face-to-face interaction, especially when Kurt had been starving for it for so long, but it felt almost as if Blaine was already planning out how to say goodbye.

With one last glimpse, she turned back towards the door and left the basement.

* * *

Friday night went very well from Burt's view. Blaine hit it off with everyone at dinner. Carole seemed to adore him, Finn and him talked football all throughout dessert and Kurt... Kurt was the best part of the evening for Burt. He was lively, engaging, and smiled almost continuously, especially when Blaine talked to him. The look of Kurt's face then was amazing to see. Burt felt it was almost like he'd gone back and erased all of the bad things that happened to Kurt over the past sixteen years. Kurt never smiled like that. Not in his day to day life, not even in Burt's memories of his little boy. He didn't understand how the change had happened so fast, but nevertheless, he was glad for it. He'd been ready and willing to give anything for Kurt to find happiness again and he was well on his way to that from what Burt was seeing.

By Sunday, Burt was still reeling a little for the difference. He'd become so accustom to coming home and having to trek down to Kurt's room to even get a glimpse of him. Now, Kurt's door was open when he got home from the shop a little after six. Surprised, he paused at the open doorway and listened for a moment, but there was no laughter or talking that he could hear.

Instead of heading down right away to greet his son, Burt went into the kitchen, dug out a menu for a local pizza joint, and dialed the number. He hurried back over to Kurt's open door and hollered down to him.

"Hey, Kurt! Come up here and tell me want kind of pizza you want!"

"Just a minute!"

Burt turned away as the other end of the line was picked up. "Vito's Pizzeria, Sarah speaking, how can I help you?"

He ran through the usual information exchange, then ordered the pizzas he wanted, and was just getting ready to holler at Kurt again, when he came clomping up the stairs and tugged the menu from his father's hand. Kurt took one look at where he was ordering from and promptly demanded, "Meat Lover's, thin crust!"

"Yeah, and one medium– "

"Meat Lover's, thin crust?" Sarah offered with a little laugh. "Already putting it in, Mr. Hummel. Would your daughter like anything else?"

Burt grimaced a little at the assumption. "No, um, my son's all set with just that."

"Oh, your– I'm sorry, I just– "

"No, no, happens all the time," Burt said with a sigh and he watched Kurt's expression crumble a little. He didn't have to hear what the girl on the other end of the line was saying to know what sort of conversation Burt was having right now. "How long will it be?"

"Thirty to forty minutes."

"Thanks," Burt replied. He hung up then, finding it difficult to meet Kurt's gaze as he set the phone back down on its little cradle.

"They thought I was a girl again," Kurt said simply and the sullen tone was like a knife in Burt's chest.

"Bud, they don't– if they saw you then– "

"I'm used to it," Kurt said softly. He turned to head back to his room, but Burt couldn't stand that look. He couldn't stand any of this distance anymore. Blaine's friendship had already changed Kurt in a number of ways, but he still wasn't making any moves to talk to him. If Kurt wasn't going to come to him, then Burt was going to have to make sure he knew he could and should.

"Come on, let's go make a salad to go with it," Burt offered, catching Kurt by the shoulder and nodding towards the kitchen. "To make your healthy food regimen happy and all of that."

"It's for your own good– "

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Burt grumbled as Kurt open the refrigerator and started pulling vegetables out.

They worked quietly for close to ten minutes, Burt trying to find the right words to start the conversation he knew they needed to have. Kurt was in a better place now, he was happier and that should make this easier, but it didn't. If anything it made Burt even more scared. What if he screwed this talk up and Kurt shut him out even more? Then what would he do?

"So, um, that Blaine kid seems like a nice guy," Burt grunted, chopping up the pieces of celery Kurt had just handed him.

"Wh– oh, yeah," Kurt agreed awkwardly. "Blaine's really great."

"He's good for you," Burt added, trying not to wince at how stupid he thought he sounded. "It's... I've missed seeing you smile and be happy like you are with him around."

Kurt's hands slowed down under the faucet, the vegetables he was washing becoming slack in his grip at Burt's words. Still nervous, Burt chopped more furiously and used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He didn't know what he was doing. There were so many things he wanted to say, but so many things he wanted to wait on until Kurt took his own step forward and came out to him. Burt just wanted his son back in his life fully, and he hoped that Kurt would understand that after this.

"I'm glad you've got him, kiddo," Burt finally said as he finished cutting up the last carrot Kurt handed him. "It's good that you've got a friend like him with all that crap you get at school. And just... I know you don't wanna talk about what happens at school or whatever those dumb kids say, but I love you, Kurt. And if you, y'know, ever decide you do want to talk, know that I've always got a good pair of ears ready for you."

Silence was all Burt had honestly hoped for after he put himself out there for his son's benefit. He expected them to wash their hands, clean up the counter and sink, then separate off into their own areas of the house like always. Everything ended up going right along with that guess until he started to head back into the living room.

"D- Dad?"

Kurt's voice was timid, even shaky, as Burt spun back around to face him. He arched an eyebrow in surprise, but gave Kurt his full attention, hoping desperately that he wasn't going to be the only one reaching out to mend their relationship.

"I, um," Kurt hugged himself tightly and took a deep breath. "I haven't been– I mean, I– but... "

Tentatively, Burt took a few steps forward and met Kurt's skittish gaze as he reached up and clasped Kurt's shoulder. When Kurt didn't make any moves to pull away, Burt took a deep breath. "Take your time, kiddo. I'm here for however long and whenever you need me to be, all right?"

Kurt gave him a jerky nod and squirmed slightly as his eyes flickered all around the room, finally returning to Burt's. "I... Blaine's a really great guy, Dad. He's... he knows a lot about how to be honest and how much good it can do for someone when they are and... I want to be honest with you. About myself and who I am, because I haven't been f- for a while now."

Burt nodded solemnly, throat tight and heart pounding. This was it. Kurt was finally going to open up to him, maybe just enough to say he was gay or he might even leave it at questioning his sexuality, but it was more progress than they'd made since Kurt started high school three years ago.

"Dad, I... "Kurt trailed away, face stricken and lower lip quivering. He took a deep breath as Burt watched him square his shoulders like he was expecting a boulder to come barreling into him as soon as he admitted the truth. Perhaps those were his expectations, only the boulder would be his father. Burt couldn't even stomach the idea. "Dad... I'm gay."

Relief burst through Burt at Kurt's words. _Finally_. Those words were all he'd wanted Kurt to say to him for so long. It was the one step he'd wanted Kurt to take towards him and now maybe they could really start to be more open.

Kurt was trembling as Burt watched him, eyes watering and lips parted.

"I know," he said simply. "I've known for a long time, buddy. I... I'm so glad you finally told me."

"Y- you knew? But– "

"All you wanted for your third birthday was a pair of sensible heels," Burt remarked with a shrug. "Pretty sure me and your mom both knew it, or at least suspected. I– I'm still getting used to the idea, Kurt. But no matter what, you are my _son_. I love you no matter who you are or who you love. As long as you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"Dad, I– " Kurt mouthed wordlessly at him and Burt was just thinking about reaching out and gripping his shoulder when Kurt launched himself into his arms and buried his face against Burt's neck.

Burt could feel hot tears on his neck as he circled his own arms tightly around Kurt's thin torso and hugged him back. It felt so good to hug his son again after years without doing so. Carole had been right after all and he made a note to thank her for pushing him to talk to Kurt. His son was finally being honest with him, or at least starting to with the one thing Kurt had obviously been dreading telling him for a long time.

"I– thanks, Dad," Kurt muttered, sniffling as he eased back out of Burt's embrace and stared up at him. "I didn't know if you'd– Blaine thought you'd be okay, but–"

"I will always love you, Kurt," Burt assured him, giving him a watery smile. "Nothing you do can ever change that."

"I love you, too," Kurt murmured, wiping at his eyes and smiling uncertainly. "I, um, I've gotta go start moisturizing."

"Okay, I'm gonna watch the game," Burt said with a short nod. "I'll call you when it gets here, okay?"

Kurt nodded shakily and hurried out of the room. His bedroom door didn't snap closed behind him as Burt slumped back against the wall in relief. He hadn't known what to expect when Kurt had first dragged Blaine home a little over a week ago. It had been strange and confusing and the most hope-filled moment Burt had had in a long time. Somehow, Blaine had convinced or at least encouraged Kurt to come out to him. Kurt had obviously been thinking about it before now, and with Burt's first move, he'd done it. Burt was still a little confused about Blaine and the boy his son had made up, but he was so grateful he'd shown up when he had.


	8. Chapter 7: Who You Were

A/N: All right, little later than I planned for the day, but the post-surgery pains really hit this morning. Hopefully, it's back uphill after this. Yesterday was actually really good.

Oh, and I think I forgot this in the prologue, so here is a list of triggers for the entire duration of this story.

**Rating: PG-13, eventual M (language, sexual themes, homophobia, mild mentions of alcoholism, violence, harassment severe bullying, near death situations, discussions of actual deaths, references and discussion of murder, physical assault… I think that's it for now. More will be added if needed)**

Soo, time for a little check in with Cameron in this one. Like I said, however many updates before, we'll be hearing from him every 5-7 chapters since he's a secondary plot.

Enjoy the update, have a good week, and I'll be healing away!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 7: Who You Were**

On Mondays, Cameron liked to follow a very particular routine. It was similar to the one he'd kept for almost forty years when he was alive, but there were a few obvious differences now. He got up, made himself coffee, dressed, and headed to work. But instead of greeting his various co-workers or checking in on various projects and cases his group was assigned to, he headed right to his office.

Once he was there the first thing he always did was check up with Cooper's life. In a different reality, he might have had another grandchild, or even great-grandchildren to check in on, but there was only Cooper left. His own sons had both passed away decades ago, leaving two of his three grandsons behind. Michael had been married half a dozen times with no children, but a number of mistresses and Cooper had never really managed to find his footing after Blaine's death. Cooper had pretty much disappeared entirely after that. It was only once Cameron had died and woken up in the Between that he'd had any clue about his oldest grandson's life.

After another sip of coffee, Cameron switched on his left monitor and opened up Cooper's file. Nothing new, as usual; the screen remained pale and bland. At seventy-six, there wasn't a lot left for Cooper to do except sit in his nursing home and be as miserable now as he had been for most of his life. Cameron scrolled along through the pages of background and information, glancing at the dozens of rehabilitation centers Cooper had ended up in for alcohol abuse after Blaine's death. He hadn't been admitted to one for a number of decades, but Cameron knew he'd never really gotten past his addiction or the loss of his brother. He'd simply stopped trying to do anything after his fiftieth birthday.

As much as Cameron hated what had happened to Blaine, Cooper's lonely, painful existence made him feel much worse. He couldn't help but feel like his treatment of Blaine was the cause of everything that had happened with these two and that Cooper had been right the last time they'd seen each other.

_"If they hadn't done it, it would have been you!" Cooper snarled, his fist swinging aimlessly as he tottered on the front porch. A lot of the neighbors had come out to watch when they'd heard the shouts. It was no secret that the Andersons' grief was manifesting itself differently for all of them._

_"Cooper, you're _drunk_– "_

_"Stay out of this, James," Cameron snapped angrily as Cooper tried to swing at him again. "If the boy wants to blame me for his brother's sins then so be it."_

_"There's nothing wrong with Blaine– "_

_"The world disagrees," Cameron reminded his oldest grandson bluntly. "That's why they sent him to Hell– "_

Cameron flinched at the memory and the hard fist that had finally made contact with his nose after that comment. He'd deserved it. That and much worse ,if he was honest with himself. He reached the end of Cooper's file and paused for a while.

Memories from his life had started cropping up a lot more frequently since Blaine had Ruptured a little over a week ago. Most of them involved the last few times he'd seen Cooper or Blaine, but others had been from his time in the Between as well. It was strange for him to think back so far to how he'd once been towards his grandsons. Cold, aloof, and uncaring when it came to their lives and safety if they wouldn't conform to how he thought they needed to be. Now both of their lives had amounted to nothing.

For a moment, Cameron debated checking in on Cooper through the Timestream, but decided against it. He knew what he'd find and how much it would break his heart. It'd hurt just as much as it had when he'd watched Cooper turn away from his soul mate in the year following Blaine's death. He still had one more match, but the women was across the country and only a decade older than Kurt Hummel. There wasn't a whole lot to be done with that connection as far as he knew.

Instead, he flipped to his second Monday check-in: Blaine. He only did so when Blaine was out on a mission, but with this one he'd been checking in a lot more frequently, almost daily. There was so much that could go wrong. There was so much for Blaine to figure out and get through, both for himself and for Kurt, before everything was said and done in June.

The first thing he noticed was that Blaine's file was blinking rapidly when he opened it. Almost immediately, it directed him to Kurt's, and the screen scrolled at a blur until it stopped at Kurt's sexual orientation marker.

_Homosexual: acknowledged and revealed._

Cameron blew out a loud huff of air and sunk deeper into his chair. It wasn't that he was surprised by the change. Kurt's marker had been at an acknowledged state for the past several years according to his file. But the suddenness of the change caught him off guard. It hadn't even been two full weeks yet and Blaine had already helped Kurt with such a huge step in his life. He had no doubt that the change was in relation to Kurt's father finally hearing it directly from his son. That was usually standard for most cases of hidden sexual orientations. When they finally came out to those most important in their lives, their files updated.

Blaine was quite adept at handling coming out cases. He'd helped with hundreds since he'd been here, but the speed of this one still surprised Cameron. Kurt had been buried deep under his fears and assumptions about his father's inevitably negative reaction. Somehow, Blaine had gotten him through that in a little under ten days. It was remarkable, even with a prior friendship and soulmate connection to draw them together.

"Quite impressive, isn't it?"

Cameron looked up and found his own boss in his doorway. Thomas Gates was a thin, balding man several decades younger than Cameron. He'd never asked why he'd ended up here, but Cameron knew he'd been here just as long as himself. Longer, actually, but still not as long as Blaine.

"Yeah," Cameron agreed as Thomas stepped in and closed the door. "I figured it would take him at least a few weeks, even a month, considering how terrified Kurt was about letting his father know."

"Nah, Blaine's sharp," Thomas reminded him. "He's been in this business for far too long not to get something like that out in the open fast." He paused as he sunk down into the chair across from Cameron, looking thoughtful and a little smug. "Besides, that boy's the love of his life – after life," he amended after a moment. "If anyone could have convinced Kurt Hummel to come out it would've been his soul mate."

"It's still... surprising," Cameron persisted, watching Thomas curiously. The man was always a little cocky, but he'd never seen him so mischievous and sure. He knew things Cameron didn't, that was a given, but there was obviously something else with this one, something Cameron no doubt would know soon enough.

"A lot of things with Blaine's last mission will, I think," Thomas said mysteriously. "There's a lot of hit and miss moments, but he's definitely on the right track. He'll get his chance before all's said and done. It's just a matter of him listening to his granddad and taking that moment when he figures it out."

Listening to his granddad. The words hummed through Cameron's mind as he remembered his final moments of advice to Blaine. _Listen to your heart, even if it seems impossible or crazy._

"You make it sound like this is a reward for him instead of him helping Kurt find himself or for Blaine to face... face what happened," Cameron remarked suspiciously. He shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Blaine's death. Even he had a hard time accepting it, much more so than he used to. In his life, he'd brushed through it quite quickly, but now it wasn't so easy. He was a different man with different ideals and beliefs, and he knew how cruel he'd once been. "He's there to get past that and to make sure Kurt doesn't end up here– "

"That's the simplest way to describe what he's there for," Thomas cut in. "Learning to let go and accept what happened to him when he died isn't the only thing left for Blaine to learn, Cameron. You know very well what'll happen with these two before Blaine finds his way back here."

"Yes, but that's a big if, Thomas," Cameron reminded him. "Just because he feels it doesn't mean he'll listen to his own heart or my advice. He's got no reason to."

"He will," Thomas said simply, smiling sadly. "So will you. I know you didn't talk to him again. You've only got one more chance at this and then... "

"Then I restart with Cooper," Cameron deduced miserably.

"No, then you move on," Thomas corrected. His voice was so stern it was alarming. "I have my doubts for a few minor details when it comes to Blaine's last mission, but I know that kid. He's going to be amazing with this and he's going to get that Beyond he deserves. Unless something goes terribly wrong and we're way off, then Cooper isn't coming here either. You either get this right with Blaine when he's back for a moment, or you're a loss."

A loss. Cameron stomach curled at the thought. That meant he'd be here forever. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was a source of shame for a lot of people who were bordering that existence. Most of them didn't even get missions anymore. They'd had their chance at facing whatever they needed to face and failed. Unlike Cameron, most of them could have another chance at their Beyonds, but Cameron knew his was hinged entirely upon his relationships with his grandsons, particularly Blaine. If he didn't open up and make amends, Blaine would move Beyond and be out of his grasp forever. There would be no possibility of ending his own regrets.

"Think about it, _seriously_," Thomas urged him. "You've only got one shot left, Cameron. I'd hate for you to miss it."

"I– Cooper's going to be fine?"

He wasn't sure where the question came from. His thoughts were jumbled between fears of his own fate and the idea that everything depended on him healing his relationship with Blaine. Cooper wasn't coming to the Between. Somehow, miraculously, he was going to go Beyond, despite the miserable life he'd lived.

"He'll get there, it just takes time."

"But– how? He's... his whole life has just been– " Cameron stammered in disbelief.

"His life isn't over yet," Thomas reminded him pointedly. "He's still got almost a decade before his time is up."

It didn't make sense. No matter how Cameron thought about it, there was nothing and nobody in Cooper's life to turn it all around or make him let go of his regrets and heartache. He had been stuffed away in an underfunded nursing home in Columbus for years. Even that was coming to an end unless the home was given enough donations before the end of the year.

"I'll see you this afternoon," Thomas said, standing up and stretching. "We've got a few new cases to go over, a new arrival to get settled, too. They're easing him into it right now. He's a wreck; wife and kids shot right in front of him. I don't think he's got any clue he did it either."

Cameron hummed softly and nodded. "Schizophrenic?"

"Not that we know of," Thomas replied. "He's... he lost it down there. Blocked it all out. Gonna have a hell of a time coming to terms with that."

Cameron nodded again and watched Thomas as he left his office. He'd helped deal with a few introductions with similar histories before, but they weren't his area or concentration. The man would be assigned to someone else.

He turned back to his screens, flipping Blaine's profile open and watching it. The edges were pulsing faintly with energy. Not a lot like Kurt's or even Cooper's, but enough to indicate that he was close to being alive. Cameron watched for a long time, taking in the way the edges and screen dimmed and then brightened in time with an unseen and unreal heart beat. He wished Blaine's heart really was still beating or that he had more time to get past his own stubbornness and fears.

If he failed in June – if he couldn't bring himself to tell his grandson how much he cherished him – then that was it. He would spend forever stuck here with no way out and the agonizing reminder that not only was it his own fault, but that Blaine would never be able to move past it either.

* * *

Kurt skipped right into McKinley on Monday morning. He was there early to avoid a dumpster toss, but was still bubbling over with so much relief and excitement that he was grinning broadly. His dad knew. Burt Hummel knew his son was gay and he didn't care in the slightest. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he was this happy and even the arrival of the first jock shoulder checking him into the lockers didn't wipe the smile from his lips.

For the first time in years, he had something great in his life. His relationship with his father wasn't lost. And it was almost entirely thanks to Blaine that he'd found the courage to be honest.

"Boy, you look like you swallowed a gallon of laughing gas," Blaine remarked from behind him.

A second later, Blaine was beside him, opening his own locker and glancing over at him. Still grinning widely, Kurt giggled quietly and blushed. He shouldn't be this giddy, and yet, this was a huge moment for him. His father still loved him. Nothing that happened today was going to take that truth away from him.

"I'm guessing you had a fun weekend," Blaine continued with a laugh. "Must have met the man of your dreams if you're blushing like that–"

"Oh, _stop_," Kurt chided, face still burning, but more at the thought Blaine had just planted there. If he ever found someone, he could bring him home. His dad would want to meet his_ boyfriend_, if he was ever lucky enough to have one.

"What?" Blaine asked. A hand waved in front of Kurt's vision and he shook himself. Blaine was watching him closely, smiling hopefully and kindly. "You're acting weird, Kurt, but like, a good weird. A _happy _weird."

"I– Blaine, I came out to my dad," Kurt admitted. He stopped shuffling books around in his locker and turned to the other boy, who looked surprised, but pleased. "He– Blaine, he was so wonderful about it–"

There were tears in his eyes as Blaine stepped forward and gave him a tight, but brief hug. "I told you he would be," Blaine murmured, smiling softly as he ducked back and wipe a few tears off of Kurt's cheeks. "He loves you more than anything."

"H- he said he'd known since I was little," Kurt added, laughing ruefully. He hiccupped a moment later as Blaine fixed a few locks of his hair. "It was just... amazing. He started talking to me after we ordered pizza and kept reminding me that he loves me and if I ever needed him that he's always there and... I don't know. I just told him. After everything you've been saying, I figured it was now or never."

"I'm glad it worked out," Blaine said gently. His smile was still in place, but something about it flickered. It made Kurt think about Blaine's own parents, and the fact that they'd taken Blaine's coming out pretty badly. As carefully as he could, Kurt moved back into Blaine's arms, hugging him as tightly as Blaine had hugged him a few minutes ago. He kept Blaine firmly against his chest, his fingers skimming along Blaine's shoulders and his upper back until a group of jocks rumbled past with angry remarks. He smelled like cinnamon and raspberries, but the strange combination suited him. It was comforting.

"Keep it in the closet!"

"Back off with your fairy dust, you perverts!"

Kurt glared after the two jocks as Blaine pulled back and started rummaging in his locker again. After a second during which Kurt watched him, he turned back to his own locker and dug out his last book. He felt bad for having such great news and he knew he shouldn't. It _was_ great that his dad had taken everything so well. But Blaine had had such a rough time with his own parents that Kurt felt guilty. He could easily imagine the wistful thoughts running through Blaine's mind. The hopes of a mother and father who would pull him into a hug and tell him that it didn't matter, they loved him just as much no matter who he loved in return.

Blaine would never have that chance. It made Kurt's chest ache just thinking about it.

"Come on," Blaine said suddenly, shutting his locker. "You can tell me the whole story in history, okay? I want _details_."

With a smile, Kurt agreed as they headed to history and took their usual seats in the back. They spent most of their partner work time discussing the night before and how Burt had reacted, what they'd each said, and how relieved Kurt had been by the end of it. As the bell rang and they headed off to their next class, Kurt caught Blaine's elbow and looped his arm through Blaine's.

"Thank you," he said quietly as they slugged through the crowds. "If you hadn't encouraged me, I don't think I ever would have been brave enough to– "

"You would have," Blaine assured him. "You're a lot braver than you know."

Kurt shook his head as they continued down the hall to their next shared class. Blaine was always complimenting him like that, always boosting him up and making him feel better about everything. In some ways, he was nothing like the boy Kurt remembered from his childhood and in others, Blaine was exactly like him. His kindness, the way his eyes sparkled when he joked with Kurt, the firm, comforting grip of his hand on Kurt's whenever Kurt was scared or confused.

Kurt had started browsing through the yearbooks from the early nineties and the year he'd met his Blaine with limited success. There had been a Blaine Anderson listed in the Glee Club and a few others, but he'd not been pictured, even in the individual pictures for 1993. For 2002 there hadn't been a single mention of a Blaine Anderson at all. The years on either side of 1993 and 2002 had no mentions of a Blaine Anderson anywhere. There wasn't even a Blaine in the entire school.

It was just a gut feeling, but he _knew_ they were the same. They couldn't be anything or anyone else but the same person. The only problem was that Kurt had no proof. There was no picture, no other years to look at, and the very idea of Blaine being in a hundred different years but never aging was mindboggling.

But so was this Blaine looking just like his childhood Blaine.

By lunch time, Kurt and Blaine had skipped past discussing Kurt's coming out and were discussing their other family members. Or more accurately, Kurt was telling Blaine about his mother's sister, parents, and his dad's parents while Blaine listened and offered very little on his own. It was a characteristic Kurt had noticed a lot in the last week. Every conversation was always about him, not Blaine.

"– and my dad has a brother, but I haven't seen him in _years_," Kurt finished. "Uncle Ted's always off on business in the middle of nowhere. I always pretended he was a fantastically dressed spy when I was a kid."

"Must have been a bummer to find out he dressed in flannel," Blaine remarked as they settled down at their back corner table.

"Yeah, it was–"

Kurt froze. He'd never mentioned his uncle to Blaine before, or that annoying little fact. But he had said it to the Blaine from his memories. God, it all added together so well except for the fact that it was all _absurd._

Instead of calling Blaine on yet another thing, Kurt nodded, ate a bite of spaghetti, and asked, "So I know your parents are gone, but what about the rest of your family?"

"Oh, um," Blaine paused, stuffed a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewed slowly. The diversion wasn't lost on Kurt at all. He _knew_ Blaine was hiding things, even denying or lying about some of it. Why he was doing it was the one thing Kurt was really interested in knowing. He had his own frightening and bizarre suspicions. "I have an older brother, Jack. I live with him."

Kurt frowned at the name. That was different. The Blaine he remembered had an older brother as well, but his name was Cooper, or Conan. It hadn't been as simple as Jack. That boy had been quite a bit older, too, if his memory was still correct.

"Oh, is he... okay with you being gay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, he doesn't care," Blaine said with a shrug. "Never has."

It wasn't much of anything to go off of. Kurt nodded anyway, and watched as Blaine continued to eat, neatly cutting up his spaghetti now and taking his time. He was always so proper when he ate, or when he did anything really. He was a real gentleman, dapper and mature and dressed like he was out of a fifties movie.

Apparently he even carried a pocket watch, because he'd just pulled one out to examine it. As it flashed in the artificial light, Kurt caught sight of the cover and his heart leapt. A musical staff and twisting lines of notes. Just like his Blaine's had been. It was one part of that Blaine that had always lingered with him, even when a lot of the other details had faded.

Blaine had carried a silver pocket watch. A shiny and fairly new looking one with that same engraving on the cover and his name inscribed under it.

_"I wanna see your pretty watch!" Kurt demanded as he reached over the table and grappled for the little device. _

_It wasn't the first time Blaine had pulled it out in front of him. More often than not, he tugged it out of his pocket, frowned, and then said his goodbyes for that afternoon. Kurt was fascinated by the device, and even a little angry at it. Whenever it appeared, Blaine disappeared._

_"Hey, woah!" Blaine hollered, pulling his hand back and then holding the watch high out of Kurt's reach._

_Pouting, Kurt slumped back down into his little chair and glared over at Blaine. _

_"I wanna see it," he reiterated waspishly. "You always look at it and then go."_

_"Well, I have to get home so my parents don't get mad at me for missing dinner, Kurt," Blaine said slowly, setting his hands and the watch back down on the little table. "If I'm late they'll get mad and then I won't be able to see you at all."_

_Kurt frowned at that pronouncement, but didn't argue. Seeing Blaine was the best part of his day. The kids at school were dirty and mean and the teachers treated him like he was china doll about to shatter all over the floor. His dad was... sad. All the time now. He barely even went to work and walked around like he couldn't hear or see anything. It scared Kurt because his dad had always been bright and happy and loud; now he was like the birthday balloons Kurt always had that sunk to the floor a week later and looked pitiful._

_"I still wanna see," Kurt insisted more quietly. "It's so shiny and pretty and–"_

_Blaine laughed as Kurt's description continued on for another four adjectives. "All right, all right! It's nothing special," he added as he slid it across the table. "Just a... a gift from my grandfather for my sixteenth birthday."_

_Delighted, Kurt picked it up and tested the weight in his little hands. It was heavier than it looked, the metal warm from Blaine's grip and his pocket. He ran his fingers over the design on the front. There was a musical staff carved into it, large and squiggly. Kurt's music teacher at school had started to teach them the notes and the names for those funny symbols, but he couldn't remember if this was the fish named one or the one that trembled. Underneath the curving musical staff and notes was Blaine's full name, engraved in a curving smile around the bottom edge_

_Blaine Devon Anderson._

_"Isn't Devon a girl's name?" Kurt wondered out loud. "I've never met another boy with a girl's name for their middle name."_

_"Is it?" Blaine asked lightly. "Huh, I guess it could be either, but Elizabeth is a beautiful name," he added with a pointed look at Kurt. "A beautiful name for a sweet little boy."_

_"Stop sweet talking me, Blaine Devon," Kurt said superiorly, tilting his chin up and doing his best to look down his nose at Blaine. It was difficult since the other boy was much bigger than him. He was so big he barely fit into the little plastic chair he was sitting in._

_Blaine laughed loudly at that and went back to sipping his "tea" quietly while Kurt examined the pocket watch more. The little knob on the top clicked and the cover sprung open, revealing a dark watch face and silver numbers and hands. As Kurt watched it, his brow crinkled in confusion. The hands were moving backwards and much faster than they would on a normal watch. It was currently at a quarter past eight – which Kurt knew was wrong because it was still daylight – and the second hand was a blur. The minute hand was moving quite fast, too, spinning at the speed the second hand should be._

_"I think your watch is broken," Kurt told him, tilting it up until the sunlight hit the watch face. It flashed in the sunlight, speckling Blaine's face with little lights as the older boy reached over and looked it over._

_"No, it's fine," Blaine said after a moment. He smiled, and it was an odd smile Kurt didn't fully understand. It wasn't happy or sad or even amused like so many times before, it was just there. "I've gotta get going, okay, Kurt? Same time tomorrow?"_

Kurt stared over at Blaine as he examined the watch for a moment and then closed the cover. He couldn't not stay something after seeing that. It _was_ the watch he remembered. There was nothing else to it. Somehow, this Blaine was his Blaine and there was no logical explanation for any of it. But Kurt was starting to have his suspicions; very unbelievable, crazy suspicions.

"That's a nice watch," Kurt complimented still watching Blaine fiddle with it. "Is it specially made?"

"Wh– oh, my grandfather, yeah," Blaine stammered, looking surprised that Kurt was looking at it so intently. Maybe he remembered everything and was hiding it on purpose. Maybe he was... Kurt shook himself. It wasn't possible, no matter what he'd seen on television and in American culture for his entire life. "He gave it to me for my birthday last year. Brand new and everything."

"Can I see it?" Kurt asked uncertainly. He caught sight of the engraved cover as Blaine clicked it closed. "That engraving looks beautiful."

Blaine eyed him for a moment, and that look said everything Kurt didn't know how to explanation. They both knew they'd met years ago and that Blaine hadn't aged a day, but neither of them were saying anything.

Too polite to refuse Kurt's request, Blaine handed Kurt his pocket watch, looking tense and unnerved. It was lighter than Kurt remembered. The silver was still smooth and warm in his grasp. The little knob on top still compressed to open the cover engraved with Blaine's full name and musical notes. The watch face was still dark and handsome.

"It's beautiful," Kurt remarked, briefly examining the time. He was about to click it closed, so as to not look too suspicious, but the watch face_ was_ different. The hands weren't moving at all this time, not backwards or forwards or anything. The second hand wasn't even twitching like the cogs inside of it were stuck. With a frown, Kurt looked at the time – 9:04 – and then eased the cover closed.

"I think you need to wind it up or something," Kurt said, trying his best to sound normal. "It stopped a few hours ago."

"Oh, yeah, the battery's getting old," Blaine said immediately, his voice higher than usual. "I'm gonna have to find a shop somewhere in town to get it fixed."

Kurt was barely listening as he flipped the watch over and caught sight of the trademark, and more importantly the date next to it.

1959.

Stunned, Kurt barely heard anything Blaine was saying after that. He passed the watch back, but his mind was reeling. 1959 was decades ago. Half a _century_. If Blaine had been truthful, and Kurt assumed he must have been since he'd said the same thing both times, then Blaine had received this watch in 1959 for his sixteenth birthday. But that would mean...

For the rest of lunch, Kurt stared over at Blaine, trying to puzzle it together and make sense of what everything was telling him. Blaine was... he was some type of ghost? Angel? Kurt didn't know. He'd seen movies and shows and books about guardian angels and them being sent down from Heaven and a bunch of other nonsense, but he'd never bought into it or God. How was he supposed to just ignore all of this when it was right in front of his face and that was the only explanation he could even remotely believe?

As the lunch bell rang, Blaine scooped both of their trays up and went to empty them. Kurt shook himself and stood up. The only way he'd ever get a full, honest answer was to ask Blaine and the idea of asking the living, breathing boy walking by his side if he was _dead_ was ridiculous. But at least he had another date to look at. Maybe researching 1959's McKinley yearbooks would finally give him the picture and proof he was looking for.


	9. Chapter 8: Mysteries

A/N: Apologies for being so late this week! Summer classes started, and I went back to work fulltime after my surgery, so it's been pretty hectic. From here on out I'm going to start stating with each update when my next update will be. For now, it'll still be every week, but the day is going to be changing to Tuesday some weeks, depending on which days I work. Next week will still be Monday, so look for it then!

Enjoy the update and get ready for Kurt to start really piecing stuff together. The confrontation is coming!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 8: Mysteries**

Kurt was suspicious.

The thought haunted Blaine for the rest of the week after Kurt asked to look at his pocket watch. Somehow he still remembered what had happened when he was a boy, or parts of it, at least. It didn't surprise Blaine as he got more used to Kurt's life and how the other kids at McKinley treated him. They didn't let him forget his "imaginary friend". They didn't let Kurt forget anything they didn't like about him.

For the majority of the week, Blaine tried to ease back on the time he spent with Kurt. He told Kurt he was busy unpacking and that Kurt should spend more time with his father, but inside he was reeling. If Kurt remembered him, it was only a matter of time before he pieced it together or called Blaine out on something. Kurt was smart and focused. He noticed little things that even Blaine missed sometimes. A lot of it was related to fashion and design and what someone was wearing, but there was no reason Kurt couldn't use those skills for figuring out that Blaine was the boy he'd played tea party with for months as a child.

Unnerved by the situation he'd found himself in, Blaine did his best to act normal. Just like any other teenager at McKinley. That was who he had to be. He watched his words more and didn't let random facts slip up like he'd probably been doing. The thing was, it was easy to let himself go around Kurt. It was almost frightening how fast he found himself relaxing and not realizing he'd said something he'd shouldn't have said because this him shouldn't know that yet. Kurt was smart enough to catch those moments even if he kept quiet about them. Blaine could see the shift in his posture or gaze now that he was trying to remember not to say certain things. It wasn't something he'd ever had to worry about before.

On Wednesday and Thursday, Blaine tried his best to weasel something out of Kurt without bluntly asking anything. He couldn't ask directly without giving himself away. Giving himself away was unacceptable. He'd be yanked back or Jack, the man pretending to be his older brother while on his own mission, would have to get him out of here fast. Living people weren't supposed to know the truth about any of them. Yet, not even two weeks after Blaine had returned, Kurt was already catching onto him knowing things he shouldn't. It was almost like he was supposed to be caught and tell Kurt everything. If Kurt didn't trust him then this was never going to work. He'd get too suspicious and stop talking to him, but he was already suspicious and his trust had to be slipping.

Thursday evening, Blaine stayed in under the guise of unpacking his last few boxes. Kurt, his father, Carole, and Finn had planned a night out at the movies and dinner which was a relief for him. It gave him a night to figure out what to do from this point forward. Nobody he'd known had ever had a repeated person in their missions. As far as he knew, it was unprecedented, and for good reason. It made things needlessly complicated. Kurt might have been young then, and Blaine's superiors in the Between probably suspected that he didn't remember Blaine, but he remembered something.

After eating a quiet meal by himself, Blaine settled down in the apartment's little living room, turned on a baseball game, and started his homework. Unfortunately it was only math tonight. He'd taken the same class too many times to even struggle with the assignment. Half an hour later he was done, and mindlessly watching the television until his phone buzzed on the coffee table he was set up at.

With a grimace, he picked it up. He hated that he had to have one of these in this time. His fingers were too clumsy for the little touch-screen buttons and it took forever to get the damn thing to not correct his words for him. Kurt and the other kids seemed to breeze through the texting, but Blaine hated it.

_Kurt [7:43 P.M.]: I think Finn just took a bite out of the table and now he's using his napkin to hide it. _

Blaine snorted and slowly, but surely, tried to type out a message.

_Blaine [7:51 P.M.]: That sounds like a very Finn thing to do. Is he looking around like he's about to get arrested?_

When Kurt's response didn't come immediately, Blaine started cleaning up his textbooks and notebooks. That was one thing he'd learned very quickly about texting; responses were either immediate or took ten minutes or longer. Across the apartment, the front door opened and Jack called out a greeting.

"Blaine, you home?"

"In the living room," Blaine replied, stacking his books up next to the couch and tucking his notebooks into his bag.

There was a lot of shuffling by the front door as Blaine plopped back down on the couch. He stared intently at the baseball game and tried to recall any of the players names. The only names that kept springing to mind were ones from the 1950s, even a few from the early nineties. It made watching a lot less enjoyable when he had no idea who was who, what the team's stats were, or _anything_, really.

Jack appeared around the doorway a few minutes later, tie undone and shirt half untucked. He was about seven years older than Blaine, with hair cropped so short Blaine was even sure what color it was. Height was the only physical feature they had in common. It wasn't really an issue since their missions didn't overlap. Blaine wouldn't meet Jack's people and Jack wouldn't meet Blaine's. The two not really looking alike wasn't an issue. Even Blaine's real brother, Cooper, and he hadn't looked much alike. Cooper had taken after their father except for his eyes, and Blaine had been almost the spitting image of their mother: tan skin, dark curls, triangular eyebrows, but thicker. His eyes were his father's– and his grandfather's. Their mother had always remarked that they were both handsome, though, and Blaine tended to believe her for the most part. The girls had school had certainly agreed with her.

"You still trying to get their names sorted?" Jack asked with a glance at the television. He didn't like baseball. Not like Cooper did.

"Yeah, it's not really working," Blaine told him, glowering at the screen. His phone buzzed a second later and he smiled this time. Texting might be annoying, but getting to talk to Kurt more was always nice. It was weird to feel like he actually had a friend on one of his missions. But Kurt and he had a lot in common.

_Kurt [8:01 P.M.]: Carole just made him move the napkin. He broke a pen all over the table. It's _ruined_. I'm gonna try to snap a pic before we all get arrested for destruction of private property._

Blaine grinned. Jack snorted across the room as he yanked his tie free.

"Damn, Blaine, keep smiling like that at your phone and you'll break the screen."

"What?" Blaine asked in confusion, looking up instead of trying to type out a decent response. "I'm not smiling any different than–"

"Talking to Kurt again," Jack cut in with a rueful shake of his head. It wasn't a question. Blaine felt his face flush as Jack reached out to playfully mess up his hair. "You're getting in deep really fast, bud."

"Stop– don't– I still haven't washed the gel out," Blaine reminded him as he ducked away. "You'll get it all over your hands."

"Ew," Jack grimaced, stepping away and yanking the rest of his shirt free. "So what sort of flirty message did he send you this time?"

"He's not– he's just out to dinner with his family," Blaine said, face still hot. He wasn't even sure why he was so embarrassed. There was no reason he shouldn't be texting Kurt after all. It was his mission to gain Kurt's trust and then... then what? He still had no idea what was next after helping Kurt come out to his father. Bullies at school, sure, but he didn't like the idea of facing that just yet. It was too close to home.

"Right," Jack said. He rolled his eyes and kicked his shoes off under the coffee table. "Well, if he's got any brains in his head he can see those heart eyes you're batting at him just as well as I can. Tone it down, would ya? I don't think the bosses will like that."

Shocked, Blaine watched Jack clamber off to his room for a shower. The very idea that he was – smitten? Was that even a term they still used?– was ridiculous. He was actively trying to avoid Kurt right now to help him forget his suspicions. He was just happy that Kurt was finally coming into himself and bettering his relationship with his father and, by extension, his possible stepmother and stepbrother. There was no reason he shouldn't smile over that.

His phone buzzed again. It was another message from Kurt, a picture of a light wooden table with a splattered, red splotch of ink. It took Blaine a minute to catch himself smiling this time. When he felt how huge his grin was, how much his eyes were crinkled up, and the way his heart had pattered a little faster in his chest, he paused. That was an odd feeling. Nice, but odd. Different. He glanced at the door Jack had closed behind himself and frowned.

It was still ridiculous.

The next morning at school, Blaine was a little apprehensive when he met up with Kurt. Had Jack actually noticed something he was missing? Was he acting different around Kurt than he was around everyone else?

The honest answer was yes. Of course he was. Kurt was his friend, his only friend at McKinley, so he definitely acted more warmly towards Kurt. But heart eyes? Toning it down? That made it sound like he had _feeling_ feelings for Kurt. But he couldn't– shouldn't. He was here to help Kurt, not himself. Besides, Jack didn't know him that well. They'd only known each other for a few weeks. He didn't know what Blaine looked like when he liked someone. Even Blaine wasn't sure what he looked like. He'd never really had a real crush before, and definitely hadn't been in love. Jack was probably just mistaking his look for something else.

Throughout the day, Blaine watched himself even more around Kurt. He kept relaxing too much, and then realizing he was doing things he'd never really thought about before. In second block he took Kurt's hand under their table, in what he'd considered a friendly squeeze, but Kurt turned to him and smiled. His whole face was glowing as he squeezed back, and Blaine's stomach flipped at the toothy grin. His stomach had never done that before.

He watched Kurt for a moment. The way his eyelashes fanned down over his cheeks, the bashful little tilt of his head, and, most importantly, the light in his eyes as he glanced from Blaine's face to their linked hands. With a gulp, Blaine pulled his back and stared resolutely down at his textbook for the rest of class.

What was going on? This had to be Jack's fault. He'd planted that stupid thought in his head and now he was starting to panic and believe it. He was scared he was doing exactly what Jack seemed to think he was. Stubbornly, Blaine crossed his arms and tried to keep reading, but couldn't. It was difficult to realize that while Kurt was obviously a teenager now, Blaine was still treating him like that little boy he'd first met in a lot of ways. The mentor, the big brother and friend. That's what he'd been back then. But now... now he was a peer. He couldn't keep taking Kurt's hand to reassure and comfort him. Not when they were both gay and Kurt might think he meant something more by it, when he definitely, _definitely_ didn't. Kurt wasn't an eight year old missing his recently deceased mother anymore. Kurt was a teenager – a boy with a compatible sexuality to his own and who he might unintentionally be leading on.

At lunch, Kurt finally seemed to notice how odd he'd been acting all day. Once they'd sat down, he looked over at Blaine curiously for several minutes and finally spoke up.

"Blaine? You're acting odd," Kurt said slowly. "You kept, like, pulling your hand back earlier and you aren't smiling like you normally do. Is everything... okay?"

"I– y- yeah," Blaine stammered, fumbling with his fork. He stared down at his salad and swallowed. He shouldn't be this nervous around Kurt. But he couldn't get what Jack had said out of his head. He _did_ act more... something around Kurt. Surely Kurt had noticed. "Just tired," he added for good measure.

"Are you sure?" Kurt pressed, looking worried. He almost looked guilty, and Blaine flinched. He shouldn't feel guilty for his suspicions or the fact that Blaine was already royally fucking this mission up. His grandfather had been wrong. He wasn't ready for this, at least not if it was with Kurt.

Not when Kurt smiled at him like that, lips slightly parted and teeth peeking out. His eyes bright, too, like swirling galaxies and a beautiful Caribbean ocean and– damnit, Jack was right. He did feel... something. It was hard not to when he remembered the sad little boy he'd left behind eight years ago. This boy before him was incredible. Strong, brave, breathtaking– no. He couldn't think like that.

"... Blaine?" Kurt's voice yanked him out of his thoughts and Blaine felt his face flush. Kurt was watching him, looking even more worried by his silence and the fact that he'd been staring at him for the past few minutes.

"Huh?" Blaine yelped, wincing at the noise and hiding his gaze. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure."

"Okaaaaaaay," Kurt said slowly, clearly not believing him, but he plowed on with a bright smile anyway. "So I was thinking you could come over for dinner tonight? We could watch a few movies or something. Just hang out, read Vogue or plan outfits."

Like a date. It sounded like a date. A very casual one, but Blaine couldn't let this continue. He couldn't lead Kurt on, hurt him like that, and then somehow expect to help him with whatever he was here for.

"No, I um, Jack and I have plans," Blaine said quickly, trying not to look or sound guilty. "First official night being all unpacked and everything. We're gonna celebrate, go to dinner or something."

"Oh," Kurt murmured, looking crestfallen. "That's cool, too. Maybe tomorrow or Sunday?"

"Mhmm," Blaine nodded, stuffing his mouth full of food in a way he never had before. Anything was better than talking or noticing the hopeful warmth in Kurt's gaze right now. Maybe the food would make his stomach stop hopping about, too.

* * *

The week after Kurt came out was weird for Burt. His son was smiling and cheerful around him now. Kurt greeted him brightly and, while still a little timid, talked about his day, his classes, and, most importantly, Blaine. His son never shut up about the boy. It was eerily reminiscent of eight years ago, but with one huge difference; this Blaine was real. Burt had seen and talked to him. He even had his suspicions that Blaine was someone he needed to thank for Kurt finally coming out. It had come about so suddenly after Blaine appeared, he couldn't help but think it was linked.

All week things had been easy, but Blaine had also started hanging around less and less. By Wednesday Kurt wasn't around much either. He swore he was at the library in the afternoons, but Burt wasn't so sure. He knew Kurt was still relieved with coming out to him and that he'd been out with himself for quite some time, but it was strange. All of a sudden they were both not around after being here almost every afternoon before that.

It scared him, despite liking Blaine, that they were already seeing each other. Or even worse, sneaking around instead of telling him. Kurt wasn't ready for that yet. At least Burt didn't think he was, but the thought of Blaine taking advantage of his son's new excitement was a real possibility. They were teenage boys, after all. Burt might be in his forties now, but he still remembered being that young and the hormones that had raged well into his twenties. Being with someone was a thrill little else had matched.

When he got home from the shop on Friday, the house was empty. It worried him immediately, but soon Kurt would be home. He'd have a talk with him tonight about it even if he wasn't ready for that discussion. Kurt needed to be prepared for whatever he was starting with Blaine.

After a shower and starting dinner, Burt heard the front door squeak open. It was almost dark, but not too late yet. Good. That gave him more time to get up the courage to address this subject with Kurt so soon after he'd come out.

He finished up dinner, piled several spoonfuls onto two plates and carried them out to the living room where he could hear Kurt shuffling around. The sight that greeted him was a surprise. There were half a dozen old books piled up on the coffee table and Kurt was perusing one with such a serious expression that Burt didn't know what to say.

Apparently Kurt – and possibly Blaine – really _were_ going to the library.

"You, uh, got a history project coming up?" Burt wondered aloud, setting Kurt's plate down next to the stack and reading the top one's title. _McKinley High School: 1959-1960._ It was yearbook from half a century ago. Why would Kurt be looking through that?

Burt sat down beside him, and started eating as Kurt flipped through page after page of another yearbook. It looked like it was from around the same time as the other one. Kurt was so busy flipping pages that he didn't even acknowledge him. After several minutes of his fork clinking against his plate and Kurt rustling pages, Burt finally spoke again.

"You gonna answer me or not, bud?" he asked, nudging Kurt with his elbow. "Hey, set the book down for a bit."

Kurt startled beside him. His left hand slapped the yearbook closed and he jumped away from Burt until he got a good look at him.

"God, Dad, you scared me," Kurt gasped, rubbing his chest and eyeing the plate for him. "Oh, dinner."

As Kurt grabbed the second plate and started shoving food into his mouth, Burt watched him. The entire scene before him was unusual. Kurt never ate that fast, but he did tend to be a little messy when it was just the two of them. His son was obviously preoccupied with whatever he was looking for in these yearbooks.

"So, you um, looking through old yearbooks?" Burt questioned uncertainly. He wanted to ask something else, but had no idea what to say.

"Mhmm."

"That's... cool. Something for school?"

"Uh, not really," Kurt offered, awkwardly trying to shovel another bite into his mouth. "It's... complicated."

"I've got all night, bud," Burt reminded him. "And I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Kurt looked up from his plate and re-opened the yearbook. "About what?" he asked in surprise.

Burt felt his face go hot at what he was about to say. He really didn't want to have this conversation so soon. Maybe in a few months, when he'd really settled into his son being openly gay and potentially dating someone, but not right now.

"A- about you and... Blaine," Burt grumbled in embarrassment. This wasn't going to go well at all. "You've both been, uh... gone a lot since you came out."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, and looked back at his yearbook. It was almost as if he was disinterested in the turn of the conversation. As if it didn't matter at all that he had a secret boyfriend.

"Yeah, I've been at the library and he's still unpacking," Kurt informed him with a small shrug. He started flipping pages again, hit the end of the book, and frowned in apparent disappointment. "He's coming over for dinner sometime this weekend. I made him promise."

"Right," Burt agreed, scooping his cap off and wiping up the sweat gathering on his head with his sleeve. God, maybe he should wait until they were both here at dinner, corner Blaine first. That'd be easier than trying to talk to Kurt right now. "Kurt, listen," he started, wiping his head again. Kurt looked over as he slid the next yearbook off the pile. "Bud, I know you just came out, but if you and Blaine wanna date, you don't have to keep it a secret– "

_"What?_"

Kurt's eyes were huge when he turned to look at Burt. The look was so stunned that Burt leaned back, face flushing. Okay, maybe he'd been wrong. That look clearly said he was wrong.

With a gulp, Burt turned his gaze to the stack of other yearbooks. "I um, you two just seem so... cozy?" he offered weakly. "I just assumed... since you came out, and then you both stopped hanging out here, and–"

"Dad, we– me and Blaine– " Kurt's face was an alarming shade of red when Burt looked over at him. "We aren't dating. I mean, he's... Dad, he's wonderful, but... "

Kurt's blush faded and was replaced with a frown. It didn't make sense to Burt. His son never shut up about Blaine; how great he was, how funny, kind, and charming. He could tell Kurt liked him more than friends, but he seemed to be having some sort of doubts about Blaine.

"But what?" Burt pressed, setting down his plate as Kurt did the same. "You two aren't having problems, are you? He's not pressuring– "

"Blaine isn't like that, Dad," Kurt said immediately. "He wasn't when I was a kid either."

Burt stared over at his son in confusion for a moment. Then it hit him. Kurt's imaginary Blaine from when he was a boy. Even Burt had noticed the similarities with Blaine and those descriptions. It was impossible not to.

"Now, Dad, I know you're gonna think I'm crazy again, but– "

"I have _never_ thought you were crazy, Kurt," Burt cut in. His chest throbbed a little at how easily Kurt said that. Like he'd believed it for years and had accepted it. "Lonely as a boy, yes, but never crazy for wanting Blaine to be real."

"But... Dad, he _is_ real," Kurt insisted, looking flustered. "Please, just hear me out, okay? Even I don't understand this, but Blaine – the one living and breathing and here now – that's the same boy I met eight years ago. He is exactly like him. He walks and talks and knows things I only told that Blaine, Dad. Even Mr. Schuester recognizes him from his high school days. And he's got the exact same pocket watch–"

"Wait," Burt interrupted in surprise. "Mr. Schuester remembers him from his school days?"

Burt frowned at the implications of those words. Will Schuester had gone to McKinley in the early nineties or late eighties. Kurt hadn't even been _alive_ then. The Blaine Kurt had imagined had been a decade after Will Schuester was in high school.

"Yeah, I mean, he said Blaine looks just like a boy that was there his senior year, and that his name is the same and that that kid died that year, Dad," Kurt explained. He leaned over and unzipped his bag. "And I looked through that yearbook and photocopied some pages," he continued, yanking several papers from his bag. "He's listened in a few clubs and as a junior, but he's _not pictured_."

Burt took the papers his son handed him and looked over them. Kurt had already highlighted Blaine's name on each page, along with the parentheses after his name that said he was not pictured. It could easily be a coincidence. Blaine had said his family had lived in this part of Ohio for generations. Maybe it had been his cousin or uncle with the same first name.

He flipped through the pages slowly as Kurt watched him anxiously. He didn't know what the best thing to say was. The idea that Kurt still remembered his imaginary Blaine worried him, but at the same time, this boy was so much like the one Kurt had always talked about. Kurt being reminded of that was understandable.

"What did Blaine say to Mr. Schuester about that?" he asked instead of trying to bring Kurt down from this. Not yet. If he let Kurt get it all out maybe he'd realize how impossible all of this was.

"He said that that boy was his father's brother and that he died and then Blaine was named after him," Kurt answered swiftly. "_But_, Blaine also said his father and uncles all lived here their entire lives and his uncle isn't listed in any year before that. Not even in the middle school yearbooks or the elementary ones. I checked."

Brow furrowed, Burt flipped through a few more pages and found photocopies of pages from the yearbooks Kurt had just mentioned. Sure enough there was no Blaine Anderson listed. There wasn't an Anderson in the whole book according to Kurt's scrawled notes.

"Dad, I... I know this is _crazy_," Kurt began nervously, "but I don't know what else to make of him. I _know_ it's him. He knew things I'd only told my Blaine when I was a kid. He knew you were dating Carole without me ever even mentioning that you were a widower. He's... do you remember the pocket watch I told you my Blaine used to carry?"

Burt grunted and nodded as he flipped through a few more pages. It was hard to forget the detailed pictures Kurt had drawn of the watch. It was remarkable to see Kurt putting so much effort into this, but it still worried him because what Kurt was implying didn't make any sense to him. He believed in God and a higher power, sure, but he'd never seen any signs of an afterlife before. The only way any of this would make sense was if Blaine was... well, not of this world in some way.

"He still has that watch, Dad," Kurt remarked quietly. "He let me see it on Monday. It's still got his full name engraved on it and the same musical staff and notes design. I know it's crazy and impossible, but I just don't know what else to think. He _is_ my Blaine, Dad. Nothing else makes sense."

Burt watched his son quietly for several minutes. Kurt was biting his lip and looking scared. He didn't blame him. Anyone else would dismiss his research and say he was crazy, but Burt couldn't. Blaine had always meant so much to his son, and even if Kurt's memories were a little messed up, Burt still recalled all the descriptions Kurt had once given him twice a day.

_"He's got this pretty pocket watch, Daddy. With that fish clef thing on the front and his whole name– "_

"Have you asked him about any of it?" Burt asked.

"No," Kurt muttered, shaking his head. "Not yet. I mean, I've just got empty yearbook pages and memories right now. I'm not sure what it'll all even mean if I _do_ find him in these."

As Kurt gestured to the stack in front of them, Burt took in the years on the covers again. 1960. That was even before his time. A decade before he had even been thought about. Even with everything Kurt had just said, he didn't understand why Kurt was looking back so far. Before he could ask, Kurt picked the top one up and ran his fingers over the cover.

"When he let me look at his watch, there was a date on the back," he admitted slowly. "1959. He said his grandfather gave it to him for his sixteenth birthday and that it was brand new."

"That's not new," Burt stated in surprise as Kurt set the yearbook back down and started slowly flipping through the one in front of him. "Has he mentioned anything about the school he went to before to you?"

Kurt frowned and paused. "No," he said. "Has he told you anything?"

"Yeah," Burt told him. "First day you brought him home. I was asking some basics, and he said he'd transferred from a prep school called Dalton on the other side of Columbus, I think."

"I'll google it on my phone," Kurt decided after a moment.

Burt watched him start typing on his phone and tried to think of other possibilities. If everything Kurt was saying was true, then he didn't know what to make of this. But he didn't want to think of his son as a liar either. Not when his own memories were backing up some of what Kurt had said. Yet, how could Blaine be sixteen at four different points in time? It wasn't possible as far as Burt knew. The very idea was preposterous. Still, as Burt watched Kurt wait for his phone to finish its search he knew something weird was happening with this Blaine kid. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

Kurt's brow creased in confused a few seconds later. "It... Dad, was the name Dalton Academy?"

"Yeah," Burt sighed with a little nod. "West of Columbus, I believe is what he said."

"Dalton Academy closed in 1976."

Burt's head shot up from where it had started to sink back into the cushions. "Wh– "

Before he could ask any further questions, Burt found Kurt's phone in his face and a news article about the old school being renovated into a home for orphaned and underprivileged children. It was dated from the late nineties. Swallowing loudly, Burt eyed the yearbook Kurt still had open on the table.

"You said that pocket watch was 1959, right?" he asked.

Kurt nodded vigorously and set his phone aside. "This yearbook is from 1959 to 1960," he explained. "I'm guessing he was a junior if what I'm thinking is right."

Burt shivered and scooped up their empty plates. All of this made him really nervous and uncomfortable. The idea that Blaine was all of these boys at different times was insane. There was no way it was possible. There had to be a logical explanation and yet... what else could explain any of this unless Blaine was... what, dead? An angel of some sort?

"I'm gonna go clean up," Burt decided as Kurt started turning pages again. "You let me know if you find anything, okay?"

Kurt hummed in agreement as Burt got up and started for the kitchen. He only made it a few steps before Kurt's loud gasp had him spinning back around.

"Dad, I found him! That's him!"

Burt ducked over the back of the couch to look at the page Kurt was holding up for him to see. Sure enough there was Blaine's young, handsome face smiling back at him. It was a little plumper and younger looking than it was now, but there was no mistaking him. Triangular eyebrows, soft curls parted to one side, and bright eyes that were dimmed by the black and white picture. The little bow tie under his chin was even familiar. The pattern was so distinct Burt couldn't mistake it for anything else. He'd worn it just the other day when he'd been here.

Kurt pulled the yearbook back and settled it into his lap. "He's a sophomore in this one, but I already looked through the year after and he wasn't in it at all," he said thoughtfully. He set the book down on the table and picked the one up from the year before. Burt watched him flipped through it swiftly until he got to the freshmen section. It only took him a few seconds to spot Blaine, looking even younger, on the page.

"He's listed as a freshman in this one," Kurt said quietly. "What do you think– is he–"

"I dunno," Burt answered honestly.

"Y- you do believe me, don't you, Dad?"

Burt swallowed again and nodded slowly. "Yeah, bud. Yeah, I do. But I don't understand what this means for him."

Kurt dropped his chin into his hand and stared at the two pictures. Burt looked down at them, too; at the handsome young man smiling brightly up at them and the younger boy, probably with a cracking voice and a head shorter. Blaine was definitely a little older now than in those pictures, but he wasn't the age he apparently should be. He couldn't be older than seventeen.

"I... I think I'm gonna see if the local library has, like, old newspaper articles and o- obituaries and stuff in their records," Kurt said slowly, biting his lip and shaking his head in disbelief. "I... "

Kurt trailed off and didn't finish the thought, but Burt knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking.


	10. Chapter 9: Truth

A/N: Are you ready? You better be! Time for Kurt to get the truth!

Enjoy and next week's update will be either Tuesday or Wednesday, but I'm not sure yet. Depends on how bad the internet connection is where I'll be staying.

**Too Late**

**Chapter 9: Truth**

"Hi, excuse me," Kurt said brightly. "I'm doing some research for a class, but I'm not sure how to find the articles I'm looking for."

The librarian, a middle-aged man around his dad's age, looked up in surprise. It was five minutes after seven on a Saturday morning. The entire library was empty except for the employees, a few elderly couples, and Kurt. His dad had been quite surprised to find him up and eating breakfast at dawn, too, but when Kurt had explained, Burt had understood. He was starting more in-depth research today, specifically around 1960. If he was going to figure this out, he had to look to see if he could find proof that Blaine was actually dead. From there, he wasn't sure what to think of such a claim, but if he found proof of what he suspected, then he could confront Blaine.

"Is there something specific you're researching?" the librarian asked, setting his pen aside.

"Lima in 1959 to 1960," Kurt answered immediately. "I really want to find newspapers from then, preferably local, like _The Lima News_. I'm not sure if the library carries anything like that, but– "

"We do," the man answered, standing up and motioning to the second floor. "There's a full stock of microfilms for old newspapers, censuses, and a lot of other things upstairs. I'll show you where and how to use one of the machines."

Kurt beamed at the man and followed him up to the second floor of the library. It took him a while to understand how to add the films and run through one, but eventually he got the hang of it. The librarian showed him how the microfilms were organized, and by nine o'clock, Kurt had found a dozen from 1960 that were marked _The Lima News._ After he set the first film in the machine, Kurt hesitated.

If he found what he thought he'd find, he could never forget it. He'd have absolute proof that Blaine was... something else. Whatever that something else was could turn their friendship and Kurt's life upside down. He didn't believe in God, or the afterlife or religion of any form. If Blaine really had died half a century ago... Kurt didn't know how he'd cope with that knowledge on a spiritual level, or what he'd choose to believe about such things again.

He was on his feet again before he'd realized it. The articles could wait for a few hours. There were other things Kurt had come to the library to look at, too. Yearbooks from before 1959 for a start. After all, he wasn't even sure if Blaine had grown up during that time. He might have just been there longer that time. Maybe. Anxious and jumpy, Kurt went back downstairs and to the back corner where the other yearbooks had been kept. He took his time, looking through all the dates until he found one for Carmel Middle School, 1958.

Kurt pulled it out, then riffled through the ones next to it, yanking out the two prior years, and then slowly walking back upstairs. He took his time, trying to prepare himself for everything he was on the brink of figuring out. It was terrifying to think that Blaine was dead. That he had been eight years ago when Kurt was a boy, and another seven or so years before that when Mr. Schuester remembered him.

Kurt took the long way around the library to the back staircase, finally settling back down at his microfilm machine and pulling his notebook of dates and notes out of his bag. There was quite a bit written down already. The first page was filled with dates and peculiarities he'd noticed before he'd started looking, then the following pages were full of what he'd found. There were lists of years he'd checked, which ones he'd found yearbook pictures for, but most of them were under the second heading_, Listed but not pictured_.

After taking a deep breath, Kurt flipped to the last page of notes where he'd written information down on what he'd found last night. There was information about Blaine's pictures from 1959 and 1960, and as much as he could find on Dalton's closing dates. There didn't seem to be any connection between Blaine and the old place. Kurt had no doubt Dalton had just been a random cover story for Blaine that had once been viable, considering the year Blaine had apparently lived here.

He wrote down the next year, 1958, and added Carmel Middle School to the note before he flipped the yearbook open. After ten minutes of searching, Kurt found him with the other eighth graders, looking even younger than his freshmen picture. It was startling to see Blaine's little face beaming up at him. His curls were long and loose, his eyebrows less sharp, but there was no doubt that it was Blaine.

Heart thumping faster, Kurt looked through the other two and found Blaine in both, looking more and more child-like. His eyes were starting to burn by the time he snapped the last one closed and finished his notes on it. Blaine – his old Blaine and his new Blaine – was this boy. Somehow, in some way, he was here now, not a day older than seventeen. He was happy, healthy, and _alive_. A million thoughts tumbled through Kurt's head, each more muddled than the next.

He hated the idea of what he might find in the newspaper microfilms. Blaine's obituary or death notice might be hidden in there. A small, simple little note that hundreds of people had overlooked half a century ago. Yet somehow it meant more than anything to Kurt. If he had been this boy, if Blaine had died– then he was, what? A ghost? An angel?

Neither idea sat well with Kurt. He didn't believe in that sort of nonsense. All religious people ever did was tell him how much God hated people like him for something he couldn't help or change. It wasn't his fault he was gay. It wasn't something to be faulted for on any level. Some people were gay and some weren't. It shouldn't make any difference, but anyone religious had always told him otherwise. His mother had believed, he knew, but it had been a long time since Kurt had listened to one of her stories about guardian angels or anything of that nature. Most of the time he tried to forget any of what she'd told him. It made it too difficult to be an atheist.

Kurt shook himself and turned the microfilm machine back on. It was quite a simple little device and within moments it was ready to go. He took his time looking through the first film, from May, 1960. There wasn't a lot of interest for him. Some articles on the Civil Rights Movement, a bad fire in Columbus, and a lot of talk about a drought in the coming months. June and July were more of the same thing. There was more talk of the drought, various articles about school zones being redone for a new high school in the area, Carmel, and talk of a hurricane that had hit Florida.

It was after four by the time Kurt reached the end of the August film. That one had been the most boring of all. Half of the articles were just talking about the McKinley High football team, their record, and their top players for the coming school year. If he hadn't been so determined to find something on Blaine, Kurt might have started skipping pages, because the name Lee Atkins was starting to drive him nuts. The boy was mentioned in every single article for the McKinley football team, and was apparently quite a star. Kurt didn't really believe any of it. The boy looked as full of himself in pictures as any of the jocks at McKinley did today.

September started with more of the same. There were countless more articles talking about the start of school and the first football game of the season on Friday night, the fourth. He'd probably started too far into 1960 to find anything on Blaine. After all, he'd based the decision on the fact that Blaine was a junior at any point in time after that. He had to have passed his sophomore year, and probably would have died in the summer or even the fall. Vision starting to blur from mindless scrolling, Kurt was about to shut the film off when an article from Saturday, the fifth, caught his attention.

It was different from the others, not exciting and hopeful, but jarring and frightening.

_McKinley High Student Found Dead in Parking Lot: Football Game Postponed_

The title caught Kurt completely off guard. It was exactly the thing he was looking for, but the one thing he'd been dreading finding. Kurt read the article quietly, slowing down at names and times to piece it together. Unfortunately, it didn't really give him much to go off of. There were almost no details on what had happened, and the entire first paragraph talked more about the postponed football game than the dead student. Frustrated, Kurt started scanning again until a sentence and name at the end of the article caught his eye.

_The body of a student, later identified as Blaine Anderson, was found in the student parking lot behind the stadium._

Kurt had to read the sentence four times before it really sunk in. His eyes started to burn as he scrolled forward more quickly. He knew at this point that obituaries in _The Lima News_ were towards the end of the paper, if that part had even been saved at all. After the last page of World News, Kurt paused and took a deep breath. This was it. Everything he'd been hoping and dreading could be right in this next section. If he was right, then everything he'd believed for years and everything between himself and Blaine was about to change.

The first image on the next page made Kurt's heart freeze. Blaine's sophomore school picture was at the top of the page under the title, _Death Notices_. Heart fluttering painfully, chest tight like he'd wrapped an ace bandage around himself, Kurt stared at the old photo for a long time. He couldn't move the page down or read what it said. But he had to. This was the answer he'd wanted to find. He'd wanted to have proof that he wasn't crazy and that Blaine really was the boy from his memories.

What did all of this mean for Blaine now? How was he still here? _Why _was he still here?

After several minutes of struggling to regain control of himself, Kurt finally gave up and moved the view in on the page until he could read the obituary under Blaine's photo.

_Blaine Devon Anderson, 16, of Lima passed away peacefully on Saturday, September 4, 1960, at Lima Medical Center._

_He was born on October 15, 1943 to James C. Anderson and Lyra B. Anderson of Lima._

_Blaine was a student at McKinley High School, where he was a prominent member of the boxing team, the choir, and the band. He was also the male lead soloist in his church choir. He was already set to continue his education at Julliard in August of 1962 with a full music scholarship._

_He is survived by his parents, James (49) and Lyra (41); his older brother, Cooper (27); and both his maternal and paternal grandparents._

_A memorial service will be held at 10 A.M. Monday, September 6, at Carmel Catholic Church. The family will be receiving friends later that evening at their home from 5 to 7 P.M. on Treebird Lane. The burial will be private._

Tears were running down Kurt's cheeks when he finished. That was his Blaine exactly. Even without the picture he could have been certain of that. Boxing, Glee, Julliard, and an older brother named Cooper. It all fit so perfectly it frightened him. What had happened to Blaine that made him keep coming back to... life? This world instead of another? Where was he when he wasn't here, and more importantly...

More importantly, what had happened to him in that parking lot? Kurt scrolled back to the article and had the page printed off. He read it over and over, went through the rest of September, but found nothing else about Blaine's death.

His phone rang a few minutes later. Without looking, Kurt picked it up.

"H- hello?" he stammered, swiping at his eyes and nose.

"Kurt?" His dad's voice crackled in his ear, sounding alarmed and worried. "Bud, are you crying? What's wrong? Are you still at the– "

"Y- yeah, I'm almost done, but." Kurt paused to hiccup, then wiped at his eyes again. He dropped his forehead into his hand and tried to stop crying, but couldn't. "I found something. I– Dad, he... I don't know."

"Do you need me to come pick you up?" His dad asked seriously. "Don't drive if you can't– "

"I won't, Dad, I promise," Kurt assured him, shutting the machine off. "I'll be home in a little while, after I'm okay."

"Are you sure y– "

"Yes, Dad, I'm sure."

"All right," his dad sighed heavily."I'm guessing you found what you thought you would?"

"It's worse than I thought it would be," Kurt said quietly, hugging himself as he leaned back and shut his eyes. He'd stopped crying, but tears were still building behind his eyes as he tried to picture it. Blaine, broken, bruised, bloody, lying in the far corner of the student parking lot that Kurt had walked across a thousand times before. He'd never even thought about the idea that he was walking across the same spot where someone had died.

"Just be safe, all right? You can tell me everything when you get home," Burt told him gently. There was the sound of heavy machinery in the background. His dad was just leaving the garage then. "I'll see you at home."

"Okay," Kurt agreed. " I love you, Dad," he added as his eyes fell on the article about the postponed game. "More than anything."

"I love you, too, Kurt."

After they hung up, Kurt gathered up all of his copies, notes, and yearbooks. He put the books on a returns cart, and headed out to his Navigator. It was a long time before he turned the engine on or even buckled himself in.

Nothing around him felt real anymore. There was something else beyond where he was now. Another world or place or life. Something besides this life was real and somehow he had to accept that. Blaine was dead. He was here with him right now, but not really living. He was from some type of afterlife, which meant that God was a real possibility Kurt had always denied.

Scared and confused, Kurt slid his phone back out, and stared at the screen. He had every bit of information he could have wanted so that he could corner Blaine, but the idea was still daunting. Even more than that, he was hurt, too. Blaine hadn't trusted him with any of this, hadn't explained anything to him either time, and had been lying to him since he'd appeared a few weeks ago. Surely Blaine had realized that Kurt would remember him. Why was he lying? What sort of purpose did he have here that made it so he had to lie about himself?

Kurt didn't know. He didn't know if he would have believed Blaine either, but it would have eased his mind to know he wasn't crazy a few weeks ago.

He opened his messages and found Blaine's name.

_Kurt [5:47 P.M.]: Hey, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? We're having that chicken bake you really liked from last week._

Blaine's reply took a little while, but they normally did. The reason why hit Kurt like a freight train. Blaine had no experience with cell phones. He'd lived in the 1950s. Cell phones and texting were a bizarre thing to him.

_Blaine [5:55 P.M.]: Sure, sounds great! What time?_

Kurt sent back the time for dinner and set his phone aside. He'd confront Blaine tomorrow night and demand answers. Blaine wasn't going to deny or lie his way out of this. There was no way Blaine _could_ get out of all of this proof. Kurt only hoped he could stay calm enough to not scare Blaine off.

* * *

If Blaine had thought Kurt was acting oddly at the beginning of the week, it was nothing compared to how he was when Blaine arrived for dinner Sunday afternoon. Both of the Hummel men were behaving strangely. Burt kept starring at him for drawn out periods of time, Kurt was frowning at him when he thought Blaine wasn't looking, and they were both gazing at him like he was a dying puppy. Or a puppy that had was endlessly circling their calves until he'd been kicked a dozen times. Either option worked for the looks they were continuously giving him.

It was all very unnerving for Blaine. It was like he'd been diagnosed with some rare, incurable disease and they were waiting for him to fall over dead. Or even worse: they'd figured out that he wasn't really alive.

The very idea that Kurt had figured such a thing out so quickly was ridiculous. It had only been two weeks. Sure, Kurt was suspicious of him and he obviously remembered things he shouldn't, but there was no way he would make such a huge, leaping connection so fast. Who in their right mind would stop and think that their new friend, who happened to be similar to their old imaginary friend, was a kid that had died half a century ago?

To Blaine, there was no reason for Kurt to even suspect such a thing. It would take a long time for Kurt to piece something like that together. Information was difficult to come by when it was related to the 1950s and 1960s, even with this new Internet thing. There was no way Kurt could figure any of it out without directly asking him and Kurt wouldn't unless he had proof. The very idea of accusing someone of being dead was insane. He was safe for now, even if Kurt called him on lying or hiding things.

His slip ups hadn't gone unnoticed during these first few weeks, Blaine knew that. He'd let a lot slip because of his comfort with Kurt and the fact that he wasn't used to having to cover for so much. Normally, he could get away with having his watch out, or knowing his way around somewhere, or even knowing things about another student because it was high school. Everyone talked about everyone else's business and personal lives. That didn't happen with Kurt. Blaine was Kurt's only real friend at the moment. The only people who said anything about him were his bullies and they just called him names and teased him about his imaginary friend and sexuality. Nobody else had any information on Kurt's personal life, except maybe Finn. He couldn't get away with stuff like he normally did.

This mission required a lot more caution than any of his others. Blaine also knew Kurt's trust wasn't anywhere near what he wanted it to be. Kurt didn't trust him. It was that simple, really. He knew he was hiding things and Kurt remembered too much. Blaine's stomach had been in knots for over a week because of it. It was almost as if Kurt was supposed to figure everything out, but that went against everything Blaine had been taught.

_Don't be discovered. If you're discovered or uncovered in any way you will be removed._

He couldn't fail Kurt like that. Not this soon in his mission and when Kurt needed him so much. Kurt had already benefited from him being here, but Blaine had to find a way to be more open and honest without telling him the truth. Otherwise, this was never going to work.

Burt finally called them in for dinner. Blaine followed behind Kurt slowly, stomach knotted with dread. They knew something. There was nothing else to it. Kurt had reached his breaking point with his suspicions and was going to ask to be told more about why Blaine was lying or any number of things. But at least he didn't know the whole truth. There was no way he could have figured that out. Blaine would be back in the Between already if Kurt had figured out the truth.

"So how's school been so far, boys?" Burt asked after they'd piled food onto their plates. His voice was strained and not at all its usual gruff, relaxed tone. It made Blaine nervous. Had Kurt told his father about his suspicions? Would Burt believe whatever he'd said?

"It's been okay," Kurt said with a shrug. His eyes were locked on Blaine, who looked down and started eating slowly. This was way too uncomfortable. "Mr. Schuester is letting us do Britney."

"Britney?" Burt rumbled in confusion. "The cheerleader in Glee?"

"No, Dad," Kurt sighed in exasperation. "Britney _Spears_. Iconic pop diva?"

"Oh, right," Burt agreed, nodding like he understood. His voice said he didn't, but he still went along with it. "Didn't she shave her head and go crazy?"

"It grew back," Kurt informed them.

"Her hair or her sanity?" Burt wondered as Blaine continued eating. If he stayed silent, maybe Kurt would hold off on whatever those looks where about until Burt wasn't here. It was going to be hard enough to explain any sort of cover up for his lies without Burt there to make him nervous.

"Both, Dad, _honestly_." Kurt rolled his eyes, glanced at Blaine for a moment, and then started eating.

Of course Burt turned to Blaine immediately and directed his earlier question at him. It all felt very planned out to Blaine. His skin was prickling and his heart was starting to pound painfully.

"What about you? You liking McKinley as much as Dalton?"

There was something in the way Burt said Dalton that unnerved Blaine. It was like Burt knew he'd never gone to Dalton, at least not recently. His first long mission had been at the prep school in the early 1970s, but he hadn't been there since. Blaine remembered enough about the place to be able to reasonably get away with saying he'd gone there even if he hadn't been there since.

"It's... well, it's different," Blaine offered with a small smile. "I don't have to wear a uniform anymore, which is nice. I miss the guys though. The Warblers are a great Glee Club."

Burt frowned at him, looking a little surprised by his answer's depth. The fact that he'd apparently expected to catch Blaine in his lie didn't go over Blaine's head. Kurt and Burt both knew he was lying about things. The only question was what they were going to do about that.

"I've never heard of the Warblers," Kurt said flippantly, eyeing Blaine oddly. "We've never competed against them."

"They don't compete much anymore. Not past Sectionals usually," Blaine explained. It was true from his time there. They'd done an invitational and then Sectionals that year, but that had been a first in almost two decades. The Warblers, and Dalton students as a whole, tended to keep to themselves.

Kurt hummed softly, chin tilted up as he eyed Blaine contemptuously. Burt was starting to look at him funny again, too. Feeling jittery, Blaine scooped up another spoonful of the chicken bake dish and chewed slowly. But the conversation didn't continue after that. Kurt kept watching him, eyes narrowed and suspicious, while Burt anxiously looked back and forth between them.

Finally, when Blaine had almost finished his meal, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Gee whiz, Kurt, did Jack draw an offensive picture on my face while I was sleeping last night or– "

"Gee whiz?" Kurt echoed in disbelief. He laughed derisively and said flatly, "You really are a blast from the past, aren't you?"

The snark was like a slushy in the face. Blaine froze, stomach plummeting as Burt glared over at his son.

"Kurt, this is all insane. He's– it's probably all just a coincidence and– "

But Kurt was on his feet, looking more fierce and determined than Blaine had ever seen him.

"It was you."

Kurt knew. Any doubts Blaine had about that were erased when he saw the look in Kurt's eyes. He'd never seen Kurt so sure of anything in his life. His eyes were darker, narrowed slightly, and focused. Burt was looking anxious as Kurt stood up.

"I know you've been lying to me and I know you're the same Blaine that was with me when I was a kid– "

Sick with panic, Blaine shook his head and tried to stay calm.

"Kurt, what are you talking about?" he stammered in apparent alarm. "I– "

"I remember you and that watch and everything," Kurt said loudly, voice trembling as he scrambled over to the counter and pulled open one of the drawers. From inside he pulled out a thick stack of paper and carried it back over. "Please, don't keep lying about this, because I am _not_ crazy. I know you're... that you're dead, Blaine."

Stunned, Blaine sat there as Kurt started setting pieces of paper down in front of him. His vision was starting to swim as Burt tried to get Kurt to stop. His throat was raw and tight, his stomach so knotted he wasn't sure if it could even be used anymore. Kurt remembered it all. He'd somehow figured all of his past out and–

His old school photos were set down on the table. Middle school ones, both high school ones, his name in yearbooks when he'd been on missions since then, information on Dalton closing not long after he'd been there. He hadn't known that. He should have looked and redone his background story, but it had never been a huge thing for any of his other missions.

Kurt kept going, his voice growing stronger until it drowned out Burt's insistent protests and until Blaine couldn't breathe. Nothing was working. His hands were shaking, his eyes tearing up, everything was spinning because _how?_ It had only been two weeks. He'd already failed his final mission. He'd be done before morning and never face any of his past or help Kurt.

Then everything stopped as the last page was dropped down in front of him with a triumphant slap of Kurt's hand. It was a news article Blaine had never seen before, but the words at the top were enough to make him choke.

_McKinley High Student Found Dead in Parking Lot: Football Game Postponed_

"P- put it away," Blaine rasped as flashes started going off in his head.

_Rough hands yanked at his shirt– a shove into the empty park space behind a big truck– tripping into a pothole as a bat whistled through the air again–_

"No," Kurt refused, shaking his head and pushing the paper closer. "Is this really you, Blaine– "

"I said put it away," Blaine snarled, squeezing his eyes shut to try to shake the memories off. He couldn't handle it. Not now or ever. It was better that he would be sent back. He couldn't help Kurt with this or anything.

"Why? If this isn't you then what does it matter?"

"Kurt, just _stop_," Burt ordered sharply but Kurt wasn't in a mood to listen.

Blaine tried to slid his chair back, but Kurt caught the back and held it.

"This _is_ you, isn't it? Are you still really going to deny it, Blaine? I _know_, okay?"

"It's– "

"What? This isn't you? Then who is it? Who are all of these other Blaines? If this doesn't involve you then why don't you want to see it?"

With a jerk, Blaine shoved his chair back and stood up. It toppled over with a echoing clatter. "I'd like to see how _you'd _react to having your own murder shoved under your damn nose!"

He was breathing heavily as the other two fell silent. Nobody moved for several minutes. Blaine was shaking and trying to shove down the memories going off like flashbulbs in his mind, but it was like trying to choke down vomit while his fingers were down his throat.

_Laughter– a homophobic slur–a fist yanking him up from the pave by his hair until he hollered in pain–_

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice was quiet, guilty. "Are– I'm– "

"It... it's okay, Blaine," Burt said gently, but then his hand dropped down onto Blaine's shoulder.

It was a huge mistake. With a jolt, Blaine yanked his whole body backwards, half tumbling towards the living room. He stumbled blindly for the front door, trembling and breathing unevenly as he tried to swallow his panic. Before he knew it he was out the door and two blocks over, running hard and barely aware of where he was going or why.

How had Kurt figured it out so soon? Why had they even bothered to send him on this mission if Kurt remembered so much? He couldn't believe Kurt would shove that article right under his nose either. Not when he knew what it meant.

Blaine dropped down on the curb, winded and still crying. He wasn't even sure what street he was on, but it didn't matter. Before long someone from the Between would be issuing a return for him. He'd been shocked right back out of Time and probably never return. Everything was over before he'd even started and Kurt...

Kurt would never get help with his bullies or have a better life. He'd never know what had happened to Blaine after tonight or understand anything else about it. Blaine would never face his past or save Kurt from the same fate. It was over.


	11. Chapter 10: Guardian

A/N: -slinks into room- So, a few days late, yeah. Almost three, actually. It's close to midnight. Sorry about that. My friends and I decided to use the days we all got off together to go to the beach for a few days. Fun was had.

Anyway, the long awaited update is here. There isn't going to be one next week, though. It's the second to last week of my summer classes and I've got a lot to do with that and I'm already falling behind on writing for this story. The next update with be the 17th, so not this coming Monday but the one after it. That should get the Mondays back on track and give me time to play some catch up when keeping ahead of posting dates. I've been trying to stay 3-4 chapters ahead of what's being posted and I think I'm only two ahead now. Or it might be one and a half, I'm not sure.

So enjoy the update, apologies once again for the lateness, and I will see you on the 17th!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 10: Guardian**

Carole was surprised by how dejected Burt was when they met up Tuesday afternoon for their weekly date. He was distracted from the time they went to lunch until they got home shortly before five and picked a movie to watch. She didn't know what was bugging him, or why he was so quiet. Pressing him for answers never did any good either.

"Isn't this movie really sad?" Burt grunted from beside her on the couch. Carole glanced at the screen where _The Notebook _was playing. They were only a few minutes into her movie choice, but she honestly had no interest in watching it.

"Yes, I guess," she answered, hugging his arm tighter. "It's one of Kurt's favorites."

"Is it? It's got a really sappy romantic story, doesn't it?" Burt grumbled, adjusting his cap and sinking back into the cushions. He was clearly exhausted. Whether it was an emotional or physical exhaustion was hard to tell. With Burt it could easily be either. He'd been more tired lately, especially the past few days. Carole assumed it was from the budget cuts he'd had to make at the shop recently. They weren't in a lot of economic trouble, not yet with Burt running things, but it did make his job a little more difficult because the economy wasn't doing well.

"In a way," she agreed. Instead of asking him anything about the frown lining his face, Carole took his hand in hers and rubbed over his knuckles and up his forearm. He wouldn't talk until he was ready or until Carole had a clue about what was suddenly so wrong and knew where to press. Everything had been great since Blaine had appeared and Kurt had come out. Now all of a sudden, Burt was acting like this.

"Hmm, sounds– "

The front door creaked open. Burt jolted into a sitting position, upsetting Carole's grip on his hand and arm as he looked towards the opening to the hallway. Kurt was home. Burt's son was home and Burt looked more anxious and worried than he had all afternoon. Stomach fluttering, Carole watched the hallway, too. Kurt appeared, alone and miserable looking. He didn't even bother taking his jacket or shoes off as he wrenched open the door to his bedroom.

"Hey, Kurt," Burt greeted, voice wavering a little as Kurt froze and glanced over at them.

The look on his face was enough to make Carole gasp softly. She'd never seen him so heartbroken, and she had no explanation for why. His eyes were dull and red-rimmed as though he'd been crying. The confidence and bounce he'd started to carry himself with recently had deflated out of his limbs like they were balloons. Nothing about him was hopeful or happy. Kurt didn't even look like he knew what a smile was.

"Dad," Kurt replied softly, his voice thick. He sniffled and looked away as he hitched up his bag.

"A- any luck?" Burt asked. The concern in his voice made Carole pause. Something had happened, but it clearly hadn't been between Kurt and Burt like she'd started to suspect. That only left Blaine. There was nobody else important enough in Kurt's life to get such a reaction from him. Even his hair, usually coiffed up perfectly, was drooping. Not even bullies could bring Kurt down enough to make him stop styling his hair in the mornings.

Kurt shook his head and opened his door. "He wasn't there again," he answered weakly. "H- he– " Kurt bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling. There were tears in his eyes. "He's always been there, and now– what if I got him sent away?"

"Sent away?" Carole echoed. The phrase alarmed and confused her. Who could send Blaine away and how could Kurt have caused something like that? Not unless...

Blaine's family. His parents hadn't sounded accepting and maybe his older brother wasn't either. Since she'd met Blaine, Carole had learned that his parents had passed away and that he lived with his older brother, but she didn't know anything about him. Maybe he'd met Kurt or even caught the two of them–

"It doesn't matter," Kurt said, shaking his head. "It's all my fault."

Kurt's words only confirmed Carole's suspicions. The two boys had started dating and been caught cuddling or holding hands like they liked to do. Nothing else fit what she was hearing.

"No, it's not– "

Burt's words were greeted with the sound of Kurt's door clicking closed.

They were both silent for a few minutes as the television murmured dully in the background. Carole had no idea what was going on. She'd missed something huge and for whatever reason, Burt hadn't told her about it. That only made her more worried. It had to be serious if Burt wasn't bringing it up on his own. The very thought terrified her. There were so many possibilities when she only knew Blaine was apparently gone and Kurt was blaming himself for it.

"What happened?" she asked quietly after a few minutes.

Burt startled a bit and glanced over at her. His eyes were surprised as though he'd forgotten she was right beside him. They were scared, too, in a way Carole had never seen before. He'd been scared before Kurt had opened up to him, but this was different. HIs eyes were troubled, dark, like he was looking down a well he'd never reach the bottom of or that didn't have a bottom. It was almost as though whatever his answer was he doubted everything about it and had no ideas or hope for Blaine.

"It's... Carole, it's complicated. Really complicated," Burt sighed and slid his hat off to rub his temples. "I don't even know if I believe half of it, but the way he reacted and everything Kurt found... "

_"Found?"_ Carole echoed in fear. She could think of several distinct possibilities for that. They were all just as bad as the next and erased her earlier suspicions about the two boys being caught being romantic. Someone was hurting Blaine, or he was hurting himself if Burt's words were anything to go by. Stomach churning, Carole clutched at Burt's hand and took a deep breath. She'd handled worse situations as a nurse, but it was different when she wasn't in the hospital and it was somebody she knew personally. Blaine had been through a lot recently; his parents had died, he'd had to struggle for however long with them over his sexuality, he'd moved to a new town with a brother that might or might not be homophobic like his parents had apparently been, and, like Kurt, he was enduring tormenting at school. It was a lot for the boy to deal with at once.

"It's... this is all going to sound completely insane, okay?" Burt began, squeezing her hand tightly as he faced her. Carole gave him a quizzical look. That didn't seem like such an insane notion to her, considering all they knew about Blaine. Burt looked tired again and rubbed at his chest like something inside of him was twinging uncomfortably. "Blaine's dead, Carole, and has been since we met him."

Of all the confessions or secrets she'd been expecting that hadn't been anywhere on her list. It hadn't even been in the same state as she was. Blaine was being abused or self-harming or any number of other violent situations had crossed her mind, but not that. What did that even _mean_? Surely it had to be a code from something else.

"I beg your pardon?" Carole gapped at him, completely flabbergasted. When had her boyfriend gone insane? Maybe he'd always been crazy and she hadn't noticed. Perhaps she'd accidentally ruptured her eardrum cleaning out her ears this morning and she'd miss-hear words for the rest of her life.

"I– I don't know all of the details," Burt began awkwardly. "But he's... did I ever tell you that Kurt had what I thought was an imaginary friend as a kid?"

Carole shook her head slowly, but allowed Burt to grip her hand. There was an explanation in all of this, and if nothing else she'd wait to hear him out before she told him how crazy he was. She loved him enough for that.

"He did, started right after Elizabeth died," Burt told her quietly. "I thought it was just his way of coping, but he talked about him for months and months. Going to the park, having tea parties on the front lawn, dancing and singing around and doing all sorts of things that Kurt loves. His name was Blaine."

"But he– you two think that a boy Kurt made up is the same Blaine he goes to school with?" Carole deduced. It sounded insane to her. Sure, she'd never met another Blaine before now, but it wasn't some bizarre name like Apple or Cherry Blossom or anything so bizarre or uncommon she'd never meet another.

"Kurt didn't make him up," Burt corrected, rubbing his jaw and sighing. "I mean, I thought he had, even until recently, but as soon as I met Blaine I immediately thought of the boy Kurt always described back then. Curly, dark hair, gelled to one side, triangle eyebrows, a bright smile, hazel eyes, and his name was Blaine Anderson, too, Carole."

Carole was silent as she digested that. It still didn't explain what Burt had told her about Blaine being "dead". That was ridiculous. She was a nurse and knew damn well if someone was dead or not, and Blaine was most definitely alive and well. Even thriving in his youth, but certainly not dead.

"He was so adamant that Blaine was real back then, but I finally just got sick of it and told him to stop," Burt confessed. "It was too much on top of Elizabeth's death, and now... He's just like that boy, Carole. Exactly as Kurt always described him. I've– Will Schuester recognized him, too, from his own time in school. I guess he was around then for something like he is now. I'm not sure. Kurt combed through all of these old yearbooks after that, and found a bunch of unpictured Blaine Andersons. Blaine has the same pocket watch Kurt used to tell me about, too."

"Lots of people have pocket watches, Burt– "

"It's got the same design on it," Burt insisted rather heatedly. She could hear the strain in his voice, the way it shook and cracked. He was terrified to tell her this, to possibly lose her over something that sounded so crazy, but he loved his son and believed and trusted Kurt more than anything. "I mean, I never saw it, but Kurt described it all the time as a kid, even drew pictures of it. I've seen the one Blaine carries. It's just like it, Carole, and Kurt found a date on the back of it. 1959. Blaine told him his grandfather had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday and that it was custom made for him. It was _new_, Carole."

"1959 isn't new," Carole agreed, frowning as she looked away from Burt. That still didn't explain such a huge leap in logic. Blaine being dead was still ridiculous. The boy was lying about something, but there was no reason to make such a bizarre claim. Maybe his parents' deaths had been part of something larger. He and his brother might be in the Witness Protection Program or something, using fake names and identities. But still... Will Schuester had said he'd recognized him. Logic couldn't explain that one away.

"Kurt looked through the 1959 and 1960 McKinley yearbooks, Carole," Burt said slowly. "He was in there. Pictured and everything. Kurt made photocopies of all of it and he went back to the library to see if he could find more and he... Carole, he found Blaine's obituary in an old newspaper. I know this is absolutely _insane_, okay? I know that, but... Kurt showed it to Blaine at dinner on Sunday. All of it."

"H- how did Blaine react?" Carole managed to ask. She didn't know what else to say. If Kurt and Burt had actual proof that Blaine, or somebody who looked identical to him, had been alive fifty years ago, then something fishy was going on.

"He... Carole, even then, right up until Kurt slapped that article down in front of him, I still didn't think it was true, but the look on his face when he saw it... god, it was like he was having some type of panic attack," Burt explained miserably. "That's not something you can fake. He freaked out and started demanding that Kurt put it away and he just... snapped. He... Carole, he s- said 'I'd like to see how you'd react to having your own death shoved under your damn nose'."

Shocked both by the word choice and the fact that Blaine had all but admitted to what Burt and Kurt had deduced, Carole said nothing. She wasn't sure if she trusted herself to speak. The entire story was so impossible and crazy for her to believe, but she trusted Burt and his honesty more than anything. If Burt was confiding this in her, then he wasn't lying. The facts might be wrong, or Blaine might eventually give them a better explanation, but from what Burt knew and guessed he was being honest with her.

"Kurt hasn't seen him since," Burt finished. "He tore out of here like death was biting at his ankles. Maybe it was... is. I don't know. I just know those pictures are him. The bow tie in his sophomore picture was one he just wore last week. You remember it? The one with little red and oranges leaves all over it?"

Carole nodded. "He called it his autumn bow tie. It was the cutest thing. Kurt loved it."

"Do... do you believe me?" Burt asked uncertainly. "I know it's a lot and crazy, but– "

"I do. Mostly, I mean, I'd like to hear Blaine really confirm it, but," Carole paused and squeezed his hand as she met his eyes. "I trust you, Burt, even though this sounds crazy. I find it a little hard to believe that such a lively boy is... dead."

"So do I," Burt agreed in relief, "but everything makes sense if he is and with what he said. He hasn't been at school since. Kurt... Kurt thinks he got him sent back to, like, heaven or something. Wherever he came from."

Of their entire conversation, that part was the least surprising to her. Carole worked in a hospital and most of her patients were religious and made religious requests prior to surgeries or before they passed away. Heaven was something her late-husband had believed in and that his parents were highly invested in. Christopher hadn't been overly religious after his Catholic upbringing, but his family had been. Even Carole was fond of the idea of Heaven. It was nice to think that there was something beyond the life she was already living, some place happy and gentle where she could rest and still watch over Finn and Kurt and the children she hoped they both had someday.

"Maybe he's right," Carole said. "Kurt, I mean. Blaine would make a wonderful angel. He's so kind."

Burt laughed a little and rubbed his head again. He still looked exhausted, but relieved that she was taking this so well. If she was honest, Carole still didn't entirely believe it, but there didn't seem to be anything else to it right now. There might never be anything else to it if Blaine never appeared again.

"I... I kind of like to think that if he is, that Kurt's mom sent him," Burt confessed with another weak laugh. He tried to grin, but it crumbled quickly as Carole slid her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

"Maybe she did since she couldn't be here anymore," Carole agreed as she cradled his head against her chest. "Kurt's very own guardian angel. I think Blaine's done a nice job so far. I've never seen Kurt smile like he does when Blaine's around."

"Neither have I," Burt said softly. "I'm– god, Carole, I'm so scared he's gone now and he's not coming back. What if us finding out the truth got him sent back and– what's going to happen to Kurt now? What if he just lost the only real friend he's got?"

Carole took him into her arms and kissed his cheek. She said nothing as she heard him sniff and felt his hot tears dribble down her neck. Even after a year of dating and a serious relationship, she'd never seen Burt cry. Not when they had talked about their late-spouses or about Kurt's sexuality and his silence about it. But the thought of Kurt losing something that had so quickly become precious to him and had finally given them all hope was crushing for him.

If she was honest, it scared her, too. Kurt losing all hope after he'd come so far in only a few short weeks terrified her to no end.

* * *

The only relief Kurt had in the following two weeks was Blaine's reappearance at school the Thursday after their disastrous dinner. Blaine avoided him completely. Kurt wasn't sure if it was out of fear or guilt or anger, but he hated it. Even in classes, Blaine ignored him, sat away from him, and said nothing. It scared Kurt more than the truth of Blaine's existence did.

There was no doubt in Kurt's mind that Blaine's death in 1960 was real. Blaine's reaction had been all the confirmation he'd needed. Worse than Blaine's avoidance was Kurt's own gnawing guilt. In his own zealous for the truth, he'd shoved something traumatizing right in Blaine's face. The other boy had every right to be furious at him for that. Kurt was just glad he was still here. His worst fear had been Blaine being taken back to... wherever he was from.

But he was hurt, too, by the avoidance and lies. Surely Blaine had realized Kurt recognized him, not at first maybe but once it became obvious with his questions and suspicions. It hurt to think Blaine didn't trust him with the truth. Kurt was older now. He understood things more and could be trusted to keep such a secret. It was obvious that it was true, too. The few times Blaine did meet his gaze in class or at lunch or in Glee, his eyes spoke more than either of them had in two weeks. Blaine was hurt, too. Despite his own guilt and regret for pushing, Kurt could understand that much. He couldn't imagine having something so terrible in his own past and having to relive it at a friend's house during dinner of all things.

After almost two weeks since their fateful dinner, Kurt couldn't stand the silence anymore. There was nobody else he really talked to at school. A few of the girls in Glee Club had started talking to him, particularly Mercedes who he was finding he had quite a bit in common with, but he missed Blaine. If Blaine was dead he'd have to leave here at some point again. That was what had happened when Kurt was a boy, and he suspected it would happen this time, too. He didn't want to lose whatever time he had to see Blaine. Who knew how long it would be until he saw Blaine again after this time; another eight years or even longer. He'd be in New York City, might even be _married_ the next time Blaine popped up in his life.

At lunch exactly a week after Blaine first returned to school, Kurt rushed to lunch as soon as the bell rang. He knew Blaine had started eating somewhere besides the cafeteria and today he was going to find him and apologize. The only thing he wanted was his friend back at this point, and he hated that he might have lost him because he'd been too over the top.

He was the first in line and snuck out as the horde of other students started filing in. Blaine hadn't even been appearing to get lunch since last week. Part of Kurt thought he didn't even need to eat, but he could just as easily be bringing his lunch from home.

If Blaine had a home. Maybe he just slept in a graveyard or in a tree or the clouds or somewhere not normal. Kurt had no idea. He had so many questions that only Blaine could answer. It took Kurt several minutes to dodge the few teachers making their way to the teacher's lounge after the final bell, but then the hallways were empty. Kurt ran through the list of places Blaine had seemed to frequent in the few weeks they'd hung out together.

There was the choir room, but unless he's asked Mr. Schuester for special permission or could walk through walls (Kurt wasn't ruling anything out) then it was locked except for classes and practice after school.

There was the gymnasium, too, but Kurt thought there had to be a class in there right now. Blaine would be noticed if he went in there. Coach Sylvester or Coach Beiste wouldn't let him slip past.

Which left the backside of the school facing the football stadium and student parking lot. With a shiver, Kurt realized it was the same place that the old paper article had mentioned as the site of Blaine's death. He couldn't believe Blaine would actively seek such a place out, but maybe it was comforting in some way. Being near the last place he'd been alive surely had to remind him of his own life and better times. Maybe he even visited there to help himself cope with what had happened so long ago, especially after Kurt had brought it up so recently.

With another surge of sickening guilt, Kurt hurried through the halls with his lunch tray and towards the back exit. He'd start there first. It was the most likely spot he'd find Blaine. They had met there most afternoons when they didn't have Glee and had a different final class. At least now he had a reason for why. Kurt had never asked before. He hadn't asked a lot of things he should have instead of shoving that stupid article under Blaine's nose.

Kurt pushed the door open slowly, trying to stop it from creaking, but it was no good. It creaked and a sneaker squeaked on the cement out of sight. Blaine was here.

"B- Blaine?" Kurt called nervously. "I- I know you're here," he swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Can we please talk? I... I miss you and I'm sorry and– "

The door was pulled open the rest of the way, revealing Blaine with a brown lunch bag in hand. He looked as miserable as Kurt felt. Without thinking, Kurt rushed forward, his lunch tray clattering to the ground as he threw himself into Blaine's arms.

_"Ommph_!" Blaine grunted and stumbled backwards as Kurt clutched at him desperately.

"I'm sorry, I never should have– I thought I'd never see you again– _Blaine–"_

Blaine's arms circled around him tightly as hot tears started running down Kurt's cheeks. He never thought he'd ever see Blaine again. He might have been back for a week, but the idea of losing his friendship after everything it had meant to him for so many years terrified him.

"Kurt, I– don't worry, I'm fine," Blaine murmured as Kurt squeezed him tighter and refused to let go. "You– I'm not sure _how_, but it's– "

He felt Blaine tense against him. Slowly he extracted himself from Blaine's arms and wiped his tears away.

"You're still mad at me," Kurt said quietly when he got a good look at Blaine's expression. "I don't blame you at all. I'm so sorry I just _shoved_ it in your face like that, but I was hurt and–"

"So you threw m- my death in my face?" Blaine hissed angrily. His jaw clenched tightly as his eyes darted to the parking lot behind Kurt. "God, you do have _any idea_– "

"No, I don't," Kurt said sharply, "because you never trusted me enough to tell me."

Blaine laughed then, and it was so unlike anything Kurt had ever heard from him that it was startling. He'd never heard such a loathsome sound out of Blaine, and he had every certainty that Blaine was directing it at himself. It was eerie seeing Blaine's expression change so dramatically, no longer cheerful or comforting, but hard and pain-filled. For a second, Kurt caught a glimpse of something he couldn't name, but it was a huge reminder of something he'd never really stopped to think about. Blaine might be dead, but he still felt and acted like a real person. The boy before him still had struggles and heartache and pain from the horrible death he'd suffered and the life he'd once had and lost. He wasn't just a shoulder for Kurt to cry on.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said softly, hugging himself tightly. "That– this– I've been so insensitive, but I just wanted answers because _you're_ him. You're what I've wanted back in my life for so long, Blaine."

"Kurt," Blaine rubbed his face tiredly and dropped down onto the steps. He looked frustrated and tired and still so hurt by everything Kurt had done. "I didn't tell you because I _couldn't_. The fact that I'm still here talking to you right now? _This shouldn't be happening._ That's the first thing we're told. If you get caught, you get pulled back and... "

He trailed away miserably, dropping his head onto his knees and shivering. Kurt had never imagined Blaine could be so vulnerable. He'd never imagined anything beyond what Blaine had been to him as a child. It struck him then how naive he'd been, how foolish. Blaine had so much to weigh him down and he'd ignored that because of his own anger at the lies. The idea that Blaine was lying because he _had to,_ hadn't even crossed Kurt's mind.

"Pulled back to where?" Kurt asked nervously. He dreaded the answer. If Heaven was real, if any of the religions were right, it would terrify him. How could any of them be right if they were created by living people?

"To... Kurt, it's complicated. It's all so complicated," Blaine sighed heavily as Kurt sat down beside him and gently rubbed his back. "I've been waiting to just get yanked back for almost two weeks and... I'm still here. You _know_ and I'm still here."

From inside the school, the bell that ended their lunch period rang. It startled both of them.

"I guess we'll have to sneak my lunch in Chemistry," Blaine quipped as he glanced behind them to where Kurt had dropped his tray. Kurt looked, too. The entire walkway was splattered with spaghetti and mixed vegetables. His carton of milk had busted and was oozing down the steps on Blaine's other side.

"You still want to be friends?" Kurt asked timidly as Blaine stood up and stretched.

Blaine looked shocked at the question. "Of course I do," he said at once, giving Kurt an incredulous look. "I am here for you after all."

"You're– "

"Later? Please?" Blaine begged, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "There's so much to explain and I _know _ you've recognized me for a while and have a million questions."

"Dinner at my house?" Kurt offered as the sound of stampeding students started to reach his ears.

"Sure. As long as there isn't an interrogation for the second course," Blaine agreed. Kurt winced at the reminder, but he caught the playful glint in Blaine's eyes and realized he was joking. As they stepped back into the building, Blaine bit his lip and paused."Does... um, your dad. Does he k- know?"

Kurt froze halfway down the hall and swallowed. His dad _and_ Carole knew now, but he wasn't sure how much of it Carole believed. "Yeah, he does," Kurt said slowly. "He won't ask about it if you don't want him to or pry or anything, okay? I can ask him not to."

"No, I just– god, none of this makes any sense," Blaine grumbled as they headed back upstairs to their class.

"You're preaching that one to the choir," Kurt quipped pointedly. "You being... well, _you know,_" he lowered his voice as they passed by a crowd of cheerleaders, "_dead_, doesn't make any sense since your _here_, but... "

"Later," Blaine finished. "I promise."

Kurt accepted his word and the half a peanut butter sandwich he was offered as they took their seats. Blaine might have been keeping things from him, but he was also the greatest friend Kurt had ever had. He could wait a few more hours if it meant his questions were answered and he would finally, truly get to know Blaine Anderson.

Their last class after English was Glee, though it was technically considered Choir. The only members of it were the Glee Club members, though, so they tended to use the time for extra practice. Kurt barely paid attention and once the class was over he brushed Rachel off and hurried out with Blaine. Rachel had started becoming rather attached to him in the last few weeks, but he had no idea why. A lot of the Glee girls had started talking to him since he'd started opening up to Blaine and then his father. It was odd, but very nice as well. Having new friends certainly couldn't hurt him.

They made it back to his house quickly and after grabbing a snack to make up for their pitiful lunch, Kurt and Blaine settled down on his bed, legs crossed with a tray of apple slices, celery, and peanut butter between them. For a few moments, Kurt watched Blaine dip his celery stalk into the peanut butter and stuff it into his mouth. The boy ate more peanut butter than Finn, Carole, his dad, and himself combined. It was also the only time he ate like a pig.

"So... is this obsessive love of peanut butter a dead people thing or just a you thing?" Kurt asked curiously. "Cause I guess it'd make a good bonding agent to keep your skin and stuff from falling off like a zombie's after fifty years, but it's kind of gross to think you're held together by– _why are you laughing at me?_"

Blaine had fallen over backwards, his head hanging off the foot of Kurt's bed while he laughed until he couldn't breathe.

Suddenly feeling very foolish, Kurt glared at the other boy. "It's not _funny_. How am I supposed to know if you're just like us or if you're... "

He trailed away, facing burning at the very idea of what he'd just suggested.

"A peanut butter man?" Blaine snorted, wiping his eyes and giggling a little more. "I– wow. I'd say that's a first, but nobody else has ever known anything so... "

Blaine sat up as Kurt glared petulantly at him. It had been a stupid suggestion, but he was starting to think anything was possible. Even walking peanut butter corpses.

"So you're... " Kurt trailed off with a little nudge at Blaine's legs. The other boy sat up and shook his laughter off.

"I'm dead, yeah," Blaine said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Peanut butter is just a Blaine thing. I'm basically just like you when I'm here. Breathing, warm, fleshy, and so on. I can't get sick, though, or grow taller or fatter or anything. Umm, do you just wanna ask questions, I guess? There's so much I could talk about, but I think it'd just confuse you if I started."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, still glaring slightly at Blaine as he grabbed an apple slice and tried to find a good place to start. There were hundreds of questions popping off like fireworks in his head. Finding an easy place to start was difficult. "So... it's all true? What I found out?"

Blaine nodded slowly, looking a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, the a- article and all of that. It was a long time ago. It doesn't really matter now."

Kurt watched him for a moment. Blaine was brushing that one off, even lying again. At least now Kurt had a reason for why he was. He didn't blame Blaine for not wanting to talk about such a terrible thing. It was even difficult for Kurt to relive his mother's death. He couldn't begin to imagine having to relive his own, or even being _present_ for his own.

"You don't have to lie to me, Blaine," Kurt said gently. "It _does_ matter, but if you don't want to talk about what happened then just say so. Please?"

"I– sorry," Blaine said sheepishly. "It's just... a habit. I've never told anyone _anything_ about... this."

"This? Like where you're... from?" Kurt asked uncertainly. "Like, are you a ghost or an a- angel or– "

"No," Blaine said, smiling ruefully. "I mean, some people might consider me an angel if they believe that sort of thing, but... I don't. I've never been to a place called Heaven or even been told it exists outside of here. I'm just drifting. I guess that's the best way to put it."

"Drifting? Like between here and– " Kurt waved his hands about to try to convey what he meant. It was so difficult to make sense of any of this in his mind.

"I... Kurt, the place I come from – where I've been since I died – it's called the Between," Blaine explained slowly. "It's not Heaven or Hell or anything I've ever really heard from any religion. Honestly, it's a lot like here. Just... _different_."

"How?" Kurt asked curiously. Part of him was relieved that Blaine hadn't identified any particular religion as the truth for existence after death. The whole idea of such a place still scared him.

"It's timeless," Blaine said carefully. "There's no such thing there. It looks just like it does here. Same town, buildings for the most part, but everyone's stuck there until they sort themselves out. It's like being in limbo in a way. You can't move Beyond until– "

"Beyond?" Kurt echoed. "What's that?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Blaine said simply. "I won't know until I get there and you can't come back from there." He paused, looking thoughtful. "I think it's a little different for everyone, Kurt. Beyond, I mean. You get there when you're ready. Some people go straight there when they die, if they had a good life and had no regrets or anything still attaching them to your plane."

Kurt nodded slowly, trying to digest everything Blaine was saying. It was a lot to take in at once. The idea of a place called Between was weird to him, but given how it seemed to be a stepping stone for some people after they died, but before they went Beyond, the name made sense. It sounded like a place of second chances to Kurt. Somewhere people who had screwed up or been assaulted and murdered like Blaine, could go and find a way through their pain and grief until they were ready to get past it.

"So it's a plane," Kurt repeated, thinking about the type he'd learned about in geometry a few years ago. "That seems weird to me. The Between is like... right here with us then?"

"In a way, yeah," Blaine agreed. "You can't see them, they can't see you. Not until one of us crosses over into yours. Time is what separates us. There are some people, mostly kids, who can see some of us sometimes. That's where the idea of ghosts come from. It's here, but it's separate. Invisible to anyone alive because, at least in this life, you haven't crossed over into that world. You haven't left Time yet," Blaine finished. "Not like we have."

Time. It was the third time Blaine had mentioned it. Somehow it was much more than Kurt had ever imagined it was in his mind. To him it was just a way to count and pass the day away. A guideline of sorts for when to do this or that and to tell how old he was. For Blaine, it seemed much more important. Almost like it had taken on the role of a god.

"So Time," Kurt said uncertainly, "is like what rules over the Between? Or here? Is it like a god or deity or something weird I've never heard of?"

"I wouldn't say a god," Blaine decided after a moment. "More like an entity. It doesn't have a consciousness from what I've seen. It's just this force that progresses your world. We call here," Blaine gestured around the room, "the Present. This is the strongest moment in Time, whatever's happening here. The Between is completely detached from it. There is no Time there. No change or distance or anything progressive. It's kind of depressing to put into words, actually, being removed from Time."

"And you've been there, in the Between, since you died?" Kurt questioned. Blaine nodded and fiddled with a button on his sweater. Fifty years of never changing. Not growing older or younger or taller or wider. It blew Kurt's mind. He couldn't imagine living (was it even really living?) like that. "That sounds terrible."

"It's hard to get used to," Blaine agreed. "Most of us still do everything we used to do. Eating, sleeping, even breathing, just to feel normal. They're hard habits to stop and they're comforting. Good practice, too, for once we come back here where we have to do them."

"Why _do_ you come back here?"

"To help us get through whatever we're struggling with," Blaine informed him. "We help people in similar situations or with things we've dealt with. Eventually we get a final mission where we deal with our own past. It's like a build up to that last one. To prepare us to be able to handle it."

"But for fifty years?" Kurt remarked hollowly. "That's such a long time."

"Most people aren't there for that long," Blaine admitted sheepishly. "Honestly, I don't know anyone who's been there for as long as I have, Kurt. Makes me feel old."

"But you're only sixteen– "

Blaine laughed. "Am I? I've been sixteen for fifty years," he remarked dully. "Somehow I don't think I am anymore, even if I look it."

"This is your last mission," Kurt deduced, watching Blaine's expression flicker fearfully. "What exactly do you have to do?"

"I don't know," Blaine said honestly. "I mean, I'm here for you, Kurt. To help you in some way and to deal with my own past, but... they don't hand out details for the last one. What happens and what I do is entirely up to me."

"That's... daunting," Kurt whispered. "God, I can't imagine... "

"I've figured parts of it out, I think," Blaine explained. "Helping you come out to your dad was part of it. I've done a lot of coming out cases, so that was easy to figure out. But the rest... I don't know. There's the obvious parts, you know, what connects what happened to me with your life– "

"Bullies," Kurt interjected miserably. He hated the lot of them. There was no logical reason for them to do half of the things they did. Just mindless fear and hatred driven actions from a bunch of stupid teenagers. It was what had happened to Blaine, if that news article had been anything to go by, and–

With a jolt, Kurt gasped and stared over at Blaine in horror.

"Kurt, what– "

"Am I– are you here to h- help me die? Please, don't– my dad wouldn't survive that. Not after my mom–"

"Kurt, woah, _woah!_ Slow down," Blaine demanded, grabbing his hands and brushing his thumbs over Kurt's palms until Kurt started taking deep breaths. "Shh, just breathe."

Two calloused thumbs brushed over Kurt's cheeks as he took a slow deep breath. Blaine's hands were cupping his face, holding him steady as he calmed down and his heart stopped hammering against his ribs. His eyes drifted closed for a moment as Blaine's touch eased him through his panic and then his eyes flickered open.

Blaine was there, looking concerned, but strong as he smiled encouragingly and nodded. "Shh, deep breaths. You're fine, okay?"

Kurt nodded shakily and coughed to clear his throat. Blaine. He was always there for him, so kind and gentle with his bright, beautiful eyes and his warm smile.

"You okay?" Blaine whispered, brushing a tear away gently. "Yeah?"

Kurt nodded again and tried to smile. It barely pulled back his lips, but Blaine's touch was enough to keep him from crying anymore. The other boy smiled at him once more, and Kurt's stomach gave a funny tug at the look.

"Look, Kurt," Blaine started slowly, "I... honestly, I don't know what's going to happen. To you or anyone else, but I don't think you're dying anytime soon, okay? I'm here to _help_ you and, in turn, help myself get past... that. I don't think the same thing happening to you would help either of us."

"But then–"

"I think I'm here to prevent something similar, but I just don't know," Blaine admitted, dropping his hands from Kurt's cheeks. The sudden lack of warmth made Kurt shiver and his stomach ache. "None of this makes any sense to me right now. All of this is so bizarre."

"Because I know?" Kurt asked timidly.

"Because they're allowing you to know," Blaine corrected. "They've never done that before. Not as far as I know. But it's... nice," he added. "I've never just been able to... talk. About it or anything before."

"Maybe that's part of this last mission?" Kurt suggested, not sure what term to use for what Blaine was here doing. "Maybe the person you're here helping has to know and figure it out so you can open up and get past whatever happened. Part of getting past things is usually talking about them, right?"

Blaine stared over at him for several minutes like he didn't believe him. The idea made sense to Kurt. The reason Blaine was here was because he didn't seem to be able to deal with what had happened on his own. He needed someone else to help him open up, accept what happened, and face it. That had to be why they'd given him back to Kurt. Together they'd face Kurt's bullies and really make his life complete again. At the same time, they'd piece Blaine's heart back together from the trauma he'd endured.

"We'll figure it out," Kurt decided simply, reaching out and taking Blaine's hand. "We've got time, right?"

"Until June," Blaine said heavily.

Blaine's grip was loose at first, his eyes a little unfocused and unsure. There was so much Blaine still hadn't told him that seemed hugely important, but it could wait. Just like his coming out had taken time, so would Blaine trusting him with the truth of his worst memories.


	12. Chapter 11: Heartsick

A/N: And here we are another update. Gonna keep this short. It's gonna get messy for a bit, not a lot of happy going on. You'll see what I mean after you read.

Enjoy, next one will be up around the 27th!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 11: Heartsick**

Burt didn't know what to think when he hollered down to Kurt that dinner was ready and he and Blaine appeared. It was a great sight to see and also unnerving. He didn't know what to say to either of them, and instead focused on stuffing himself while they talked. The conversation didn't exactly make his thoughts easier to ignore.

"So you do actually have a brother, right?" Kurt asked. "God, he's probably old enough to be my grandfather, isn't he?"

"Coop?" Blaine said, cutting up his spaghetti. "He's in his seventies now." Burt caught his eyes and Blaine frowned, cleared his throat, and attempted to change the subject. "So, have you gotten the latest copy of _Vogue_? I heard there was something about Patti LuPone's new book in it or something."

"Huh? Oh, right, I'm picking it up tomorrow," Kurt told him, waving his fork about dismissively. "But what about–"

Burt dropped his head onto his fist and tried not to groan. "God, I can't believe I'm watching a dead kid _eat_."

He couldn't handle how easily this conversation was going. Apparently, it _was_ all true. He'd still, deep down, hoped it hadn't been, but Kurt's line of questioning obviously meant it was.

There was a dead kid sitting at his table. His son's best friend was a boy who had died fifty years ago.

Burt took a deep breath and rubbed his temples.

"Dad?"

Kurt's timid voice broke him from his thoughts. He glanced up and attempted to smile over at Kurt, but he knew by the concerned look on Kurt's face that he'd failed.

"This is all a lot to digest," Blaine said gently, his hand coming up and clasping Kurt's where it rested on the table top. The sight did little to help Burt's sick feeling. "We won't talk about it if you don't want us to, Mr. Hummel. Kurt just has a lot of questions."

"So do I," Burt admitted loudly. He leaned back and eyed them both carefully. "So it's all true?"

"Yes, sir," Blaine said solemnly. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions–"

"When do you leave?" Burt questioned immediately. "Not that I'm not glad you're here, kid, but... You mean a lot to my son and if you're only here for a little while... "

"Only until June," Blaine answered as Kurt frowned at both of them. "It's the longest I've ever been back for."

"And why _are_ you back exactly?" Burt countered, giving Blaine a stern look. He liked the kid, of course he did. But right now all he could see was Kurt being left friendless – crushless – and alone at the end of all this.

"Dad, this isn't–"

"I'm here to help Kurt, sir," Blaine cut in pointedly. He glanced at Kurt for a moment before turning back to Burt, his face open and earnest. Blaine was such a sweet kid. A rarity in Burt's eyes because the boy truly cared, not just about Kurt, but about everything he came into contact with. "I don't know all of the details. This is my last mission and they don't tell us what we're here to do. All I know is that I'm here to help Kurt in any way he needs me."

"Like with him coming out," Burt assumed, nodding as he took in what Blaine was saying.

"Exactly like that," Blaine agreed. "There's– I'm just going to be really honest, okay?" Burt nodded encouragingly as Blaine continued, "Part of my last mission here is overcoming what... um, what happened to me in my own life–"

"The way you died," Burt guessed.

Blaine swallow and, for the first time since he'd started speaking, he didn't meet Burt's eyes. The way he shifted uncomfortably made Burt regret mentioning it so casually. He didn't like mentioning Elizabeth's death if he could help it. Trying to imagine off-handedly talking about his own made him squirm in his chair. He'd read the article about what had happened to Blaine, including the follow up articles in the weeks following the first that had given more grisly details. They hadn't covered the whole picture, but Burt knew enough to know it wasn't pretty.

"Yeah, um, that," Blaine acknowledged quietly. "Part of me being here this time is facing that through my mission, so I have to help Kurt with his bullies."

Burt nodded and leaned back against his chair. That made sense to him. He'd seen enough of those _Touched By An Angel_ shows to know it was a common theme they all shared. Apparently, it was true, too, but it made sense to him as well. Someone who had died in the manner that Blaine had would struggle a lot to move on to Heaven. Well, he assumed that's where he was or would go after he succeeded here.

"So then you go back to Heaven?" Burt asked uncertainly.

Blaine snorted. "What is it with you people and– no. I– sorry." He paused and took a steadying breath. "The afterlife and where I'm from is nothing like what you see on TV. Or what religious people tell you. I'm from a place called the Between. It's basically being in limbo. Beyond is where everyone ends up. It's the next step in my journey, but I don't know where that is or what it is, just that if I get through this and do it well, then I go Beyond."

Blaine made air quotes as he said the last word. Burt tried to take in everything he'd just heard, but even after two weeks of time to digest Blaine being dead, it was still a lot to swallow. Kurt's only friend, his _best_ friend, the boy who had been there for him even as a child, was leaving in June and he'd never come back.

"Kurt said Will Schuester recognized you," Burt said after a moment. "Was that another... mission? Like what you're doing here now?"

Blaine nodded and Burt frowned. Kurt had said Will Schuester had said that that Blaine had _died_. That made no sense to Burt, considering Blaine had told them he'd died fifty years ago.

"So do you die every time you come back then?" Burt continued, frowning over at them. "Schuester said that kid died that year and if you were already dead–"

"I don't _really_ die," Blaine admitted, "but it looks like it. Kind of feels like it in some ways, too. Basically, in order to go back I have to be taken out of this world again, in ways similar to how I left the first time. I um," Blaine stared hard at the table for several moments before continuing, "I drowned in my... in my own blood, so when I was here in the nineties I ended up drowning in a pool. It's not the exact same situation for me every time since it was technically that that killed me, but for others it's the same. Like heart attacks or strokes and such."

Burt nodded slowly, stomach churning at Blaine's confession and the horrified look on Kurt's face. It was almost too much to bear, trying to imagine such a thing happening to the sweet young man in front of him. But it had happened. Decades ago, some stupid punk teenagers had cornered Blaine in his high school parking lot, maybe on his way home from a late club meeting or arriving to see the game, and they'd beaten him to death.

"D- do you have any other questions?" Blaine asked uncertainly. "If you ever do, just go ahead and ask. I mean, I've never had anyone to tell before, but I'm open to questions."

"I think I'm good for now," Burt decided, he eyed the pair of them for a moment. Kurt was smiling tentatively at Burt and when he turned to Blaine his smile bloomed into an enormous grin. Burt's stomach twisted at the sight. God, he wanted them to be happy, wanted Kurt to be able to feel how he felt openly and with the boy of his choice, but Blaine...

He was only going to get his heart broken if he took that route.

A wave of lightheadedness washed over Burt for a moment and his left arm suddenly felt numb. With a frown, he clenched and unclenched his fist as the boys started eating again. The odd sensation disappeared as he looked back up at Kurt, face excited as he explained some new ascot he'd seen in some fashion magazine.

In another eight months that smile would vanish again, maybe forever. It was unlike any of the one's Burt had ever seen on Kurt before and he hated the thought of it disappearing. The idea of anything disappearing from Kurt's life now or then made him feel sick.

"All right, guys," Burt yawned, standing up and scooping up his empty plate. "I'm gonna hit the hay. I open tomorrow." He passed by Blaine, patted him on the shoulder, then did the same to Kurt. "Night, Kurt."

"Night, Dad! Don't you dare skip breakfast in the morning!" Kurt hollered after him.

Burt snorted as he made his way upstairs, but nodded his head anyway. He never skipped breakfast, even if he didn't have what Kurt wanted him to eat. Breakfast of champions had never failed him yet.

After a good night's sleep, Burt was up at five, grabbing a cup of coffee on his way out the door and towards the shop. He stopped off at the gas station on the corner for breakfast, snatching up several Slim Jims and a breakfast burrito, before parking behind the shop and heading in. The place was empty for now, but there were already several appointments set up for the morning, and just him there until the third vehicle arrived at eight.

Burt took his time running through the shop, opening garage doors and checking various machines and tool tables. By the time he'd run through his checklist and had opened the office, the sun was up and his first customer of the day was there to drop off. He checked the man's Taurus in, gave him an estimated pick up time, the shop's phone number, and then pulled the vehicle into the first bay.

It was a quarter after seven when he was interrupted again.

"Dad, I brought you breakfast."

Burt looked up from the car he was working on and set down his wrench.

"I already ate, bud," he said, easily taking the offered bag from his son. Kurt rolled his eyes and waited until Burt stepped over to his bench. "Breakfast of champions."

"Dad, that isn't breakfast and you know it," Kurt snapped indignantly. "You can't eat like a teenage boy anymore."

"Oh, it's just one breakfast," Burt chuckled dismissively.

Blaine appeared in the open bay door, looking around the shop as he approached.

"I dunno, Mr. Hummel," Blaine offered uncertainly. "I mean, I've kicked the bucket, but even I don't eat," Blaine paused and picked up the empty Slim Jim wrappers from the bench, "this for breakfast."

"Don't worry about it, guys," Burt insisted, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands off. "Shouldn't you be getting to school?"

"Yeah, but–"

"I'll eat whatever you brought for lunch, okay?" Burt said, nudging Kurt towards the bay door. "Now, go on. I've got work, you've got school. I'll see you guys for family dinner tonight."

"Okay," Kurt agreed, he skipped over to Burt, wrapped him in a tight hug, and then hurried out with Blaine. "Bye, Dad! We'll see you tonight! Blaine's already picked the movie!"

"It better not end with you two in tears!" Burt hollered after them.

He smiled and laughed a little as Blaine attempted to wave over his shoulder, but Kurt yanked him around the corner and out of sight. Those two were quite a pair already. He only wished he could see them have a lot more for a lot longer.

For the next hour, Burt worked steadily through his first vehicle, finished the oil change and tire rotation, and was just getting ready to take a break now that Tommy was in, when his third appointment checked in for the day.

"How you doing?" Burt greeted, grabbing his rag and wiping his hands off before he shook the man's hand. "You're the transmission flush and re-alignment, right?"

The man agreed and they chatted for a few minutes, talking about football and a few other things the man was worried about on his vehicle.

"Yeah, I can check your brake pads and all of that, no extra charge," Burt assured him, flipping his appointment book open. He went to scoop up his pen and, like last night, his whole arm went numb again. A tightness in his chest followed, like a mechanical hand closing around his heart and crushing it. His knees buckled and shook as the fist clenched and crushed. What was– heart burn didn't feel like this.

"Really? Thanks, most of the other places don't– hey, are you all right, man?"

It took Burt a second to realize he'd stumbled when he'd tried to grab his pen again. He'd take a pill for the ache and he'd been fine. Pain shot up his left arm, sizzling through his veins like electricity as an enormous pressure barreled into him. It was like a sledgehammer had slammed into his chest from inside as his vision tipped sideways.

"Woah, buddy– take it easy– "

Somehow the car in front of him had disappeared. His head was throbbing, his heart was hammering in his ears, irregular and thunderous like a stampede. Someone dropped down beside him. There was a hand on his shoulder. Rough, unfamiliar.

Where was Kurt? Kurt needed him to complain about Blaine's movie choice tonight. To decide on dinner. To make sure he had an embrace to return to when his heart got broken in June. Kurt was– where– why was the ceiling staring down at him?

"B- Burt? Oh, man–"

His vision swam, his lungs were floating somewhere they couldn't breathe. As his eyes slipped closed, Burt felt himself start drifting. Down, down, down... Maybe Elizabeth would be there, waiting.

* * *

As the bell rang for lunch, Blaine allowed Kurt to tug him upright and out into the hallway. The whole morning had been a blur so far. Even yesterday had barely settled in his head. Kurt and Burt both knew the truth about him, yet somehow he was still here. It still didn't make any sense to him, but he let it slide. There was nobody here that he could ask about it, because Jack certainly didn't know. This was only his second mission, so he knew even less than Blaine. For now it was a question that would just have to wait until he left. Part of Blaine even liked to think that perhaps Kurt had been right when he'd suggested that they were supposed to know. If nothing else, it gave Blaine someone to talk to about what had happened and that should make it easier to deal with. He hoped it would at any rate.

It was weird being by Kurt's side again after two weeks of not talking to each other. Part of him felt guilty and selfish for ignoring Kurt, but he'd been scared and furious. Having his death shoved right under his nose had been panic-inducing, much like panic attacks he'd had when he was alive. It had been a long time since he'd felt such gripping hysteria and he had no interest in revisiting it anytime soon. He was here for Kurt and that was that.

"So, I don't know if you already have plans tomorrow, but–"

"Plans with who exactly?" Blaine asked with a playful nudge as they joined the queue of students waiting to buy their lunches. "I know it's been a few weeks, but you _are_ my only friend."

"We really do have to change that," Kurt remarked with a frown. "For both of us. Mercedes has been really nice to me recently."

"She seems lovely," Blaine agreed. "Voice like an angel." He grimaced at the word and the way it made Kurt freeze beside him. Perhaps that turn of phrase wasn't the best way to put it.

"Yeah, she's nice," Kurt said as he grabbed a tray and then passed it over to the lunch lady. "Spaghetti, please," he turned back to Blaine. "So there's this play down at the Revival Theater this weekend. It opened tonight, but Friday Family Dinner is tonight, so... "

"I'd love to go," Blaine assured him. "I haven't seen a play since my sophomore year. My _real_ sophomore year," he added pointedly. "I was Hamlet that year."

"Wow, really? We haven't done a play here since I started high school," Kurt said sadly. "I wish we could do one. _West Side Story_ or _Grease_ would probably work. It'll never happen; there isn't enough interest, but it'd be so much fun."

"If you slicked your hair back you'd make quite a charming Danny Zuko," Blaine complimented. He regretted it almost immediately when Kurt gave him a shy smile that made his stomach swoop. Blaine had missed hanging out with Kurt, but he wasn't sure if he'd missed the way his body reacted to such simple things.

"Yeah, as long as _you_ didn't try out," Kurt retorted teasingly. "You'd be wonderful with the role."

They passed through the line quickly, paid for their meals, and settled down at their usual table in the back corner. Just as Blaine was getting ready to bring up what play the theater was putting on this weekend, Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury burst through the doors across the room. He took one look at their faces and knew something major was up. They were both flushed and upset, though Blaine didn't have the slightest idea why until their eyes turned towards their corner and landed on Kurt.

Stomach sinking, Blaine took Kurt's hand instinctively and nodded behind him where Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury were approaching. The closer they got, the worse their expressions became. Ms. Pillsbury looked devastated and close to tears. Mr. Schuester didn't look much better.

"Kurt? Can we see you out in the hall?"

Kurt's smile faltered and fell as he took in their faces. Heart in his throat, Blaine stood up with Kurt and kept a firm grip on his hand. Mr. Schuester glanced at him as though he was going to tell him to stay put, but when he took in their joined hands he seemed to think better of it. The silence only confirmed Blaine's worst fear. Something had happened to Burt. Nothing else made sense.

Once they were out in the hall, Ms. Pillsbury gently placed her hand on Kurt's shoulder as Mr. Schuester ran his hands through his hair. Blaine knew she was trying to be comforting, but as soon as she touched Kurt his entire body tensed and he bit his lip, looking terrified.

"What's wrong?" he demanded quietly. "Why are you pulling us into the hall? If it's about the Britney number, can't we discuss it during class–"

"Kurt, sweetheart," Ms. Pillsbury cut in sadly. "We, um, we just got a call from the hospital. Your dad had a heart attack a few hours ago."

"What?"

Blaine shut his eyes for a moment as Kurt's expression flickered from confused to disbelieving to terrified. He'd expected something bad when they'd looked over at Kurt like they'd just been told their lives were ending in ten minutes, but he had hoped it wasn't as terrible as a heart attack.

"I- is he okay? Can I see him? Where is he? I'm going–"

Kurt let out a choked noise as Blaine opened his eyes again and pulled him into his arms. The other boy was trembling like a kitten left out in the rain. Blaine hooked his arms up and under Kurt's and hugged him tightly as Kurt buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, I've got you," Blaine murmured softly, gazing over at Ms. Pillsbury and urgently trying to tell her with his eyes to explain more.

"The nurse said he was still in bypass surgery," she continued gently. "I'm not sure on much else. They wouldn't tell us anything more because we aren't family, but we've already cleared you to leave for the day."

Kurt nodded and stepped back a bit. The sight of him crying was enough to make Blaine want to. Burt could still not make it if he was in surgery. For all any of them knew Burt could be dying or dead right at this moment.

Voice strained, Blaine settled his arm around Kurt's shoulders as Mr. Schuester ushered him towards the door. "I'm going, too."

"Blaine–"

"I'm his best friend and I'm going with him," Blaine snapped, brushing Mr. Schuester's hand away as Ms. Pillsbury pulled open the door to the parking lot. For a moment, Blaine looked across the way towards the student lot adjacent. Even at a distance, he could pick out the filled in pothole outlined in thick black tar where he'd fought for his own life five decades ago. He hoped Burt's struggle didn't end the same way. The very idea of having to take Burt back with him, or for him to be here because Kurt was losing his father, too, was too much. After everything Kurt had already been through, he deserved so much better than that.

The ride to the hospital was filled with Kurt's silent tears and his short gasping breathes every few minutes. In the front seat, Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester were silent as he drove, but their joined hands told Blaine they were just as worried as he was. Blaine kept a firm grip on Kurt's hand as they pulled up to the hospital's main doors and made sure he kept the hold as they talked to the front desk, were directed to an elevator and the right floor, and then led to a waiting room in the back corner of the seventh floor.

Kurt said nothing as they sat for the next hour, alternating between pacing and curling up against Blaine. For his part, Blaine said nothing either. He quietly answered Mr. Schuester's questions about either of them needing anything, but otherwise he kept a hold on Kurt's hand and gave him what he could for now. The only thing Kurt really needed was a doctor to come tell him how his father was and Mr. Schuester couldn't give him that. As Kurt began to settle down beside him again, a doctor appeared in the entry way, looking solemn, but not devastated.

Blaine had dealt with enough death cases to know how a doctor looked when he brought the absolute worst news to a patient's family. This man looked upset, but not alarmingly so.

"Family of Burt Hummel?" he called out.

Kurt rushed to his feet, stumbling over himself in his haste to get up.

"Where is he? Is my dad okay? Is–"

The doctor smiled slightly, but nodded towards the hallway. "They're moving him to a room right now. Let's go talk out there and I'll show you where, okay?"

Kurt nodded, eyes tearing up in relief. Blaine's stomach unclenched some, too. Burt was still alive. He'd survived a heart attack just like Cooper had nine years ago. That one had been relieving and even a little disappointing for Blaine. The idea of seeing Cooper again after so long had been remarkably appealing, but he couldn't stand the thought of his brother dying either. It had easily been one of the most complicated emotions Blaine had ever felt, half tormenting himself because some part of him had longed to have his brother by his side once more.

They followed the man – Dr. Burnes according to his name tag – out into the hall and then around a corner to a door.

"It's not all good news," he began. "We managed to stabilize him and perform a bypass around the blockage, but the lack of oxygen was damaging. He went into a coma during the operation from it."

Blaine swallowed as they stopped outside of a door. Room 714. This had to be where Burt had been moved. He stared hard at the thick, black numbers screwed into the door and the blinds that had been pulled shut for privacy. It was weird to think such a courtesy had been given when the room's only occupant wasn't aware of blinds, light, or anyone passing by.

"But– when he is going to wake up?"

"I don't know," the doctor admitted simply. "I wish I had an answer for you, but with a coma, there's really no way of telling. Some wake up in a few hours, some a few days, and others... There's no straight forward answer, I'm afraid."

It wasn't anything Blaine had wanted to hear. He looked over at Kurt, who flinched slightly, but nodded and asked to see his dad. The doctor led him in, but Blaine stayed behind as Kurt pulled his hand out of Blaine's grip. The three of them watched the door close behind Kurt.

"I should go see if Carole is working," Mr. Schuester decided. "She'll want to know if she doesn't already. And Finn, too. She'll want to tell him. I should have taken him out of class, too."

"It's better that he stayed," Blaine said quietly. "I think he'd just upset Kurt right now. He kind of has no tact."

Ms. Pillsbury squeezed his shoulder. "Are you okay, Blaine? I know this is probably pretty close to home for you after what you've been through recently."

Blaine almost snorted at her words. She really had no idea just how close it was to his situation or anything involving him. A coma meant prolonged inactivity; it could easily mean Burt remained comatose until the summer and then, when it was time for Blaine to go back, Kurt would have to make the decision to pull the plug and see what happened. It could mean Kurt choosing to send his father back with Blaine and losing them both. Feeling sick and shaky, Blaine leaned back against the wall and tried to shake Ms. Pillsbury off.

"I'm fine. Just worried about Kurt," he admitted honestly.

He didn't want to think about the turmoil of emotions Kurt was going through. All of the fears and anxieties were probably suffocating him and now he was all alone with his father's silent, immobile form in a hospital bed.

"If you ever want to talk," she offered kindly. "You, or Kurt, or both of you together, my door is open."

"Thanks," he muttered gruffly.

She turned back to Mr. Schuester and, much to Blaine's surprise, gave him a brief hug. "I'm going to head back to McKinley, okay? Tell Carole to call me if she wants Finn to come over."

Mr. Schuester agreed, checked with Blaine for a minute, and then disappeared down the hall to see if Carole was on-call right now. Blaine sunk down against the wall across from the door, looking at the white sterile tiles without really seeing any of it. He'd never made it as far as the hospital. His last view of the world had been through flecks of blood in his eyelashes in a dark, cold parking lot. He hadn't even made it long enough to still be conscious when another student had finally found him.

Had someone been there with Burt when the heart attack had happened? Blaine hoped so. He hoped someone had been around and made the call immediately. It might be the only reason Burt was still alive. He had other people to look out for him, that cared and were around to keep an eye out. As Blaine drew his knees up to his chest, he leaned his head back, shut his eyes, and focused on breathing. Kurt needed him more than anything right now. He needed his best friend to be ready and strong when he opened that door again.

Kurt was in his father's room for a long time. Blaine sat outside, watching doctors and nurses rush past and eventually greeting Mr. Schuester when he returned to say that Carole was going to get Finn and then they'd be over here, too. He left shortly after to go wait down in the lobby for them, but Blaine almost wished he'd stayed as a distraction. Being in a hospital was suffocating. The white walls and floors and equipment was probably meant to make the space feel more open and softer, but it was blinding for Blaine; a complete contrast to the death and misery he remembered.

The door clicked open a few minutes later and Blaine scrambled to his feet as Kurt gently pulled it shut. He was just about to step forward to hug Kurt again when Kurt looked up.

Blaine was so startled by the harsh look that he took a step back.

"I think you should go," Kurt snapped, sniffing slightly as he rubbed at his red eyes. "I don't–"

"What?" Blaine asked in bewilderment. "Kurt, I don't think you should be alone right now–"

"You knew!" Kurt shouted, his voice cracking as more tears started to fall. He glanced down the hallway and lowered his voice again. "You _knew_ this was going to happen. And you're– you're– you can't have him! He's _my_ dad, he's not leaving me, okay?"

Chest throbbing like an open sore, Blaine stared at him for a long moment. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his nose was glistening with trails of tears and snot, and his lips were quivering, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was terrified that what Blaine suspected as a worst case scenario was true; that Blaine being here meant losing the only parent he had left.

"Kurt, that's not– I didn't know, I _swear _to you that I had no idea," Blaine began earnestly, trying to ease his hand into Kurt's, but the other boy ripped his away. The movement was harsher than any of Kurt's words had been. Blaine clamped his fist closed around cold air and tried to ignore the way his heart deflated. "I don't know what's going to happen in five minutes any better than you do–"

"No," Kurt snapped, shaking his head. "Y- you were here after my mom and now you're here again and my dad's in the hospital and–"

He shook his head roughly and batted Blaine's hand away again. Right now, his honesty wasn't going to do him any good. Kurt was too upset; too scared about what had happened this morning and the fact that his father might never wake up. Blaine understood it, but it still hurt to have Kurt's pain taken out on him when he only wanted to comfort him.

Kurt fumbled for the door knob behind him and pushed the door open. He didn't say anything else as he hurried in and shut the door again. Throat tight, Blaine leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes once more. Kurt _needed_ him now more than ever and he was shutting him out. He couldn't leave him here alone, but Kurt didn't want him around either. Completely torn, Blaine stood there, wondering what to do or if he should go get Kurt coffee and something to eat. The only thing he knew was that he hated being left alone in that hallway with only the sickening thought that Kurt might be right.


	13. Chapter 12: Always There

A/N: And so an update appears in the wee hours of the morning! Meant to post earlier and got distracted. Hmmm, let's see, then. Next update will be either the 8th or 9th of July, depending on which day I work. Hopefully after that it'll go back to every Monday. We shall see!

Enjoy!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 12: Always There**

With a final wipe, Cameron sat back on his haunches and admired the silver basin. It was sparkling and clean once more, like it hadn't just been used for seven ruptures since dawn. Cameron yawned, tossed his dirty rag into the trash bin, and stood up. Fridays were usually long, grueling days filled with at least a handful of ruptures, but sometimes more than a dozen. He stretched languidly and dragged himself over to his desk, slumping down with another yawn. It was still early, just a little after one, but he was exhausted. Or at least he thought he was. Cameron knew he couldn't actually really be tired in the Between, but he still liked to give in to the feeling ever now and again.

He adjusted his desk chair, grabbed his now cold cup of coffee and took a gulp. Grimacing at the taste, Cameron set it back down, opened his monitor and made sure his last rupture had registered. Sure enough, Gunther had made it back to Columbus just fine. It was his first official mission on his own, and Cameron had a lot of reservations about how well he would do.

Instead of dwelling on Gunther's first mission, Cameron closed out of his file and clicked over to the ones he'd opened this morning but hadn't had a chance to look at yet.

First he opened Cooper's, saw nothing new, but opened the Timestream for a glimpse at his oldest grandson. It took a few seconds, but he finally got a picture on screen of a fuzzy, plain bedroom. An elderly man was curled up on the room's only twin bed, sleeping fitfully. Cameron watched Cooper toss and turn for several minutes. It was still so bizarre for him to see Cooper as an old man, even older than he himself had been. At least Cooper hadn't lost his hair. If there was one thing Cameron was glad he hadn't lived long enough for, it was losing all of his hair. His hairline had already receded enough in the last few years of his life.

After watching Cooper sleep restlessly for a few minutes longer, Cameron closed the Timestream, and clicked out of his file. He hated that there was nothing he could do to help Cooper or take back everything he'd said and done so long ago. There was no returning to the past, but that didn't mean he still couldn't make things right.

He flipped over to Blaine's file, and opened a Timestream into his. When he was immediately given a visual of Blaine sitting on the floor outside of a hospital room Cameron wasn't surprised in the slightest. Last week Burt Hummel's file had alerted him of the inevitable heart attack that was slowly creeping nearer. He'd hoped it wouldn't be so soon, but he could imagine that Kurt's reaction had been less than stellar when it came to Blaine being present. Frowning, Cameron flipped over to Burt's file and read through what had happened earlier that morning, then switched to Kurt's and read how he'd found out and why Blaine was sitting on the floor outside of the hospital room, looking miserable.

When he'd read through it all and had switched back to Blaine's Timestream he found Carole and her son with Blaine. Finn hoisted Blaine up off the floor and Carole drew him into a tentative hug. They spoke to each other for a few minutes, words Cameron couldn't hear, then Finn took Blaine down the hall and Carole knocked and went into the room.

Cameron shut the Timestream off after that. It was going to be a rough few weeks for all of them. Even he didn't know the extent of Burt's fate at the moment. For now it was largely up in the air and unfortunately depended on Kurt and Blaine. If Kurt kept shutting Blaine out, and Cameron didn't think he would, but if he did, then Blaine wouldn't be the only person Kurt lost in June. The boy was hurting right now, but once he came to his senses he'd let Blaine back in.

He was just about to close out of Blaine's file when he realized it was glowing faintly. Surprised, he clicked the edge and it zoomed down and stopped on romantic interests. Cameron couldn't help but smile when he saw Kurt Hummel's name listed under the heading. Blaine was so much like him sometimes, it scared him. The boy fell just as fast and just as hard as Cameron always did.

Still smiling, he closed out of the file and started shutting his system down.

They would be all right. If Blaine was already falling in love, then he wasn't going to leave Kurt's side for a minute. Even if he hadn't already been falling, Blaine wouldn't leave. He was nothing if not an attentive friend and agent. It was one thing Blaine had somehow managed to instill in a number of Cameron's other agents over the years, even as they'd come and gone.

Natasha, one of Cameron's first agents, had learned it before Cameron had arrived in the Between. She'd done her last mission under him. Cameron hadn't liked it at all, but the woman had been spunky and a great, caring person. The only thing he hadn't liked about her at the time had been her homosexuality. She'd been the first to really start teaching him how little it mattered. And just like Blaine, she was always there for the person she went back for. She hadn't left the other woman's side despite barely knowing her or the fact that she'd had advanced brain cancer.

Countless others had learned the same skill from watching Blaine. For some it was more instinctual, but for others it had been a huge step in getting to their own Beyonds. Learning to be a constant and caring presence, but more importantly being open enough to truly help people was something a number of people had said they'd learned from Blaine. Even in the early years, Cameron had believed it, but he'd refused to acknowledge it or anything positive about any of his agents for a long time.

He glanced at the screen once more, now dim and blank. Kurt would pull through this, one way or another, because Blaine was there. He was always where he was needed most and even if Kurt wanted to shut the other boy out, he wouldn't be able to. Even when you didn't want Blaine around, he was still there, patient and waiting and hopeful.

_The room he woke up in was dim and smelled musty. Cameron groaned and blinked his eyes once more, trying to keep himself awake and to figure out where he was. He'd fallen down in his living room on his way out to work, and now he was... somewhere else. Somewhere dark and not familiar._

_After a few more minutes of struggling, he sat up some and looked around. It was an old bedroom certainly, with pealing, torn baseball wallpaper. Something about it was familiar, but without any furniture he couldn't place it._

_"Oh, good, you're finally awake."_

_The voice grated on his nerves like a sander. It wasn't possible. Blaine was dead; had died years ago._

_A young man kneeled down in front of him, glancing around in surprise at what he saw._

_"Is this really what my room looks like now or are you just projecting?"_

_He reached out to touch Cameron, but Cameron jerked away immediately. How dare he try to taint him, if this boy even was his grandson. He must be, because he was right. The wallpaper falling down around them was the same that had hung in Blaine's bedroom from the time he turned four until now. He'd fallen this morning, his heart aching and feeling like it was collapsing in on itself. He must have died. He swallowed uncomfortably at the thought and glanced around once more. If he was dead and Blaine was here then..._

_"I'm in Hell," he said in disbelief._

_Blaine laughed derisively and shook his head. "No, you're not."_

_"Yes, I am," Cameron insisted snidely. "If you're here, then this is Hell. Homosexuals go to Hell for their sins."_

_Once more, Blaine shook his head. "No," he laughed, smiling slightly. The easy brush off surprised Cameron. This wasn't his grandson. Not the one he'd lost so long ago at least. "This is the Between. It's– there's a lot to explain, but that's Thomas's job. I'm just your welcome wagon."_

_Cameron shot the boy a dubious look and stood up. He dusted his suit off and straightened everything out before looking up at Blaine again. For some reason the boy was still smiling slightly, no teeth like Cameron remembered, but there was a patience and undeniable hope in his eyes that even Cameron couldn't miss._

_"Have you given up on your chosen lifestyle?" Cameron asked in clipped tones as Blaine stepped back towards the door to the bedroom._

_"My– Grandfather, I'm gay. It's nothing I've ever chosen or will ever deny," Blaine said flatly, the smile slipping from his face._

_Cameron snorted in disbelief and stepped towards the door. He had no idea where it led, but it was the only way out of this room. Now that he knew whose room it was, he had no interest in staying._

_"I wish you wouldn't lie to yourself about such things," he remarked as Blaine pushed the door open. "You've got the devil inside of you, Blaine. It's such a shame."_

_"I– just come on. Thomas is waiting for you," Blaine said bitterly. It was almost as if Blaine had expected a different reaction. "He'll tell you everything you need to know."_

_Blaine waited until he passed through the doorway before following him._

Cameron swallowed and shook the memory off. He'd been such an ass to his grandson in those first years here, but not nearly as much as he had been during Blaine's last year of life. The thought of how callous and cruel he'd been for so long still plagued him, still made his stomach twist into knot after knot until he was certain his insides were just a long, tangled rope.

It was only now, years – decades – later, that Cameron was finally ready to rehash things, to work through all the pain he'd caused and mend the relationships he'd tossed aside so carelessly. Like Blaine had been there for him, Cameron swore he would be there at the end of all of this, no matter what the outcome was. If there was one thing he'd learned from Blaine, it was to always be there for the people you cared about no matter what.

* * *

Kurt couldn't remember how he got back to his house and down to his room. The noises and footsteps over his head made him assume Carole and Finn were here, but he didn't care in the slightest. His dad was in the hospital. He might never wake up. The thought settled in his squirming stomach with the weight of a bowling ball as he shifted on his bed, drawing his knees up higher. Kurt clutched his pillow between his arms and buried his face against the soft, red fabric.

The whole day had been a blur. One second he'd been in class and, what felt like the next, he'd been dumped here in his room. Overhead, Finn's thunderous footsteps trampled from the living room and faded away towards the bathroom. If he shut his eyes Kurt could easily imagine his father's voice hollering after him to stop pretending to be a herd of elephants. Stomach tight, Kurt bit his pillow and tried his best to muffle the choked sob clawing its way up his throat.

And worse of all was how badly he wanted to sink into Blaine's arms and forget the whole day had happened.

Blaine had to have known what was going to happen. He was dead after all. In Kurt's mind he should be aware of other people's impending deaths and near death experiences. Kurt hadn't seen him since he'd come out of his father's hospital room, and as much as he ached to be hugged and held, he wasn't sure if he wanted to see Blaine. The image of the other boy's heartbroken face bloomed painfully before his eyes at the accusations he'd thrown out.

Even if Blaine had known, what could he have possibly done to prevent this? Telling him sooner, telling Burt beforehand, might not have made a lot of difference, would it?

Kurt didn't know. He sniffled, wiped his eyes on his pillow, and stared around his dim room. The sun had sunk out of reach of his basement bedroom's windows and the lights were still off. It was ridiculous how little the room had changed when everything else he'd thought was stationary and set in his life had. His desk was still a mess – the only part of his room that ever was – piled high with various ties and bow ties and ascots he'd started hand-making for himself (and Blaine)a few weeks ago. There was a stack of _Vogues_ he'd dug up from the various corners and shelves in his room so that he could show Blaine everything he'd been missing since his last trip here. Draped over the back of the chair were several polos and sweaters Kurt had dug out of his closet, thinking Blaine might like them since Kurt had no use for them. They were either too small or not his style. Old gifts from his grandmothers and his mother's sister who had never really understand his tastes in fashion, but had tried to appease him nevertheless.

Every little nuance or pop of interest in his room reminded Kurt of Blaine. The magazines were for Blaine, a number of the ties were, and the empty slots on his bookcase were a reminder of the dozen books he'd forced Blaine to read while he was here. Even Blaine's scent lingered in the room, particularly around the foot of the bed where he usually flopped down. It was warm and sweet like cinnamon, something Kurt always thought fondly of because his mother had made the best homemade cinnamon rolls every Saturday morning until she couldn't any longer.

Miserable, Kurt stared up at the ceiling and listened to Finn's footsteps, slower and softer now that his bladder wasn't in urgent need of release, patter over to the kitchen. Carole was in there. Her light footfalls kept making the floor creak every few minutes as she prepared something for dinner. Kurt couldn't even fathom the idea of eating right now. Finn would probably be the only one who touched it.

For a long time Kurt laid there, letting his tears dry as he listened to the television echo down and Finn's footsteps going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. He didn't want to go upstairs. Going upstairs meant seeing them and seeing them made everything real again. If he stayed down here, he could just forget all of today had happened; that instead of waiting for news from the hospital, he was waiting for his dad to get home from closing the shop.

"Kurt, dinner will be ready soon if you're hungry," Carole hollered down to him. Her voice was feeble and hoarse. It lacked all of the motherly tones he'd grown so used to hearing in the past year. Instead of answering, Kurt rolled back over and buried his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart or the dull throb behind his eyes.

The smell of something Kurt would have normally called delicious wafted down the stairs to him; just the scent made him feel nauseous. He couldn't eat, especially not tonight. Tonight was Family dinner night and his dad wasn't here to share that. His dad might never be here for that again. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and drew in a shaky breath that rushed back out and nearly choked him. Breaths stuttering, Kurt gripped his pillow and tried to focus on anything he could think of, but the only thing that came to mind was his dad.

"Kurt?"

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and eased him away from his pillow. Through his tears, Kurt saw Blaine, a tray of food in hand and an uncertain look on his face.

"I– Carole wanted me to bring you something to eat, but–"

Another gasping breath ripped out of Kurt's lungs and Blaine set the tray down and quickly sat Kurt up and settled his trembling body back against his chest. Kurt's breaths grew quicker as Blaine's arms looped gently around him and Blaine's chin hooked over his shoulder.

"Shh, deep breaths, Kurt," Blaine murmured, one hand working its way into his hair and massaging his scalp while the other rubbed gently over Kurt's chest. "Focus on even breaths, okay? Follow mine."

Kurt choked again, but Blaine was there making soothing sounds next to his ear and holding him back against his chest. He could feel the steady, slightly elevated thump of Blaine's heart beating against his back, could feel the exaggerated slowness of his breathing as Blaine kept murmuring against his ear. It took Kurt a few moments to listen and process Blaine's words – _focus on my breathing, Kurt. Follow me –_ before he started to react. Eyes still shut, Kurt tried to control his spastic breaths, inhaling sharply and deeply and then releasing as he felt Blaine do the same.

"There," Blaine whispered, hand still stroking through Kurt's hair. "That's great; just keep breathing with me, okay?"

Too shaky to nod, Kurt focused on a second deep, even breath and felt his stomach unclench some as he released it. They sat like that for several minutes as Kurt's breathing evened out and his muscles relaxed. Eventually, Kurt sunk back into Blaine's embrace, feeling weak and clammy as Blaine squeezed him a little and pressed a warm kiss to his temple. Kurt shivered at the gesture, his stomach re-knotting from the little spark that tingled across his skin from Blaine's lips. Nothing had ever felt as pleasant and warm as sitting here in Blaine's embrace.

"Are you all right?" Blaine asked.

Kurt bit his lip and took another deep breath. He felt a little better than he had, but now that he could breathe again, his thoughts were quickly drifting back to his dad, and, more importantly, what he thought Blaine's connection to his dad was.

He shrugged and wiped at his eyes again. What could he say that wouldn't sound like another accusation?

"I– I know you're mad at me, Kurt," Blaine began quietly. "I get why, too, okay? You've got every reason to think t- that I'm here to... for that. But I'm not lying to you when I say I don't know if I am or not. I just... I don't know any more than you do about what's going to happen. If I did there'd be no reason for me to be here for you at all."

Kurt swallowed and shrugged out of Blaine's arms a little. There was still so much he didn't know about Blaine and the Between or how people got there. The thought of Blaine having to take his dad back with him made him want to vomit.

"But what if you do?" Kurt demanded, voice weak and watery. "What if you _are_ here to take him back with you in June? How can I just l- let that– isn't there something that could stop that or–"

Blaine shifted to stare at him and for the first time since Blaine had returned to Kurt's life, he looked just as young and scared as Kurt felt. He really didn't know any better than Kurt, but the idea of such a possibility terrified him, too. Face pale and jaw working nervously, Blaine opened his mouth, then close it. It was a few minutes before he spoke again, and for Kurt it was the longest few minutes of his life. Even longer than the car ride to the hospital had been that morning.

"If that's part of what I end up being here for... then I'm going to do that, Kurt. There's no way around it. If you dad is... if he's supposed to go with me, then I can't stop that or refuse to take him," Blaine said carefully. "I don't want to, and I'll help you do anything to wake him up and get him better again, but if he does go with me in June, then I'm going to be there for him. If he's going to die and go to the Between, I'd rather be there to guide him, instead of making him struggle through that by himself."

His answer wasn't what Kurt wanted to hear. He wanted Blaine to magically pull a cure for comas out of his back pocket and hand it over to Kurt, or to give him a fancy time machine to go back and make sure his dad was at the hospital that morning when his heart attack had occurred. For a moment, Kurt hated Blaine's honesty and the truth he represented. His dad could end up like Blaine was now: not really living, just a very realistic ghost, haunting his old life because he couldn't move on from it.

"I know that's not what you want to hear," Blaine said softly when Kurt remained quiet. "It's not what I want to say, but it's the truth. I never expected this to happen, and I'm so sorry it did, but Kurt, please, don't shut me out. Or Carole or Finn or anyone else. Your dad wouldn't want that."

"He wouldn't want to die or be in a coma either," Kurt snapped viciously before he could stop himself.

Blaine flinched and stared down at his lap helplessly. Kurt felt guilty almost immediately, but bit his tongue. Nothing felt right anymore. Not his house or his dad or Blaine or himself. It was like his entire life had been stuffed into one of those stupid plastic hamster balls and now it was being rolled down a flight of uneven and never-ending stairs.

A pair of gentle hands cupped his face. Kurt felt Blaine's thumbs brush his tears away; he hadn't even realized he was crying again, but Blaine had. For a few seconds, Kurt weakly tried to fight against Blaine's embrace and the tear ripping his chest apart, but Blaine's arms curled around him and held him tightly. With a harsh, blubbering sob, Kurt clutched Blaine as his body shook and his sobs returned, more gut-wrenching and echoing than before.

"Shh, I've got you," Blaine murmured. Kurt felt himself being scooped up against Blaine and then shifted until they were lying back on the bed. He curled himself tightly around Blaine and cried until he was exhausted. The last thing he remembered before he drifted off to sleep was the gentle brush of Blaine's thumb over his cheek and the press of Blaine's jaw against his nose.


	14. Chapter 13: Unknown

A/N: Update time! Umm, nothing to major to say about this one, I guess. There's a few little allusions to Blaine's past and some big reveals coming up in the next handful of chapters. So yeah, enjoy, don't cry a lot, laugh more, etc. etc. all the usual!

Next update... eh, let's go with next Tuesday or Wednesday.

**Too Late**

**Chapter 13: Unknown**

"Hey, Mom, are there any chips in the pantry?"

Carole took a deep breath as she cradled the phone against her ear and tried to not get upset with Finn. Her son was a wonderful young man, and he was sad about what had happened with Burt, but unlike herself and Kurt, he showed his grief in a very different way. Finn had always had a knack for letting the worst in life roll right off of him. It was something Carole had always admired about her son, but she knew when Burt's heart attack really hit him, just like when other things had in the past, he'd be in rough shape for a while. Hopefully, she or Quinn would be around for him when it did.

"I don't know, Finn," she said in clipped tones. "Come in here and look for yourself. I'm on hold with McKinley."

Finn thundered his way in from the living room a moment later, his usual smile absent, as he tugged the pantry door open and started knocking bags and boxes around. After a moment, he gave a triumphant cry and appeared with a bag of Doritos.

As Carole waited impatiently for the secretary to answer, Finn sat down at the counter and started stuffing his face.

"What are you calling McKinley for?" Finn asked around a mouthful of chips.

Carole sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Her nerves were shot and right now her temper was ready to snap at anything. She'd spent all afternoon at the hospital finding out everything she could about Burt's situation and talking to the doctors who had taken him in when he'd arrived. Then she'd tried to comfort Kurt, who was completely shutting down and shutting Blaine out, while Finn wandered around clueless and looked for food. There'd been no chance for her to even think about grieving or crying because there was so much to do. There were two teenage boys who were depending solely on her right now, and if she counted Blaine, then she potentially had three.

"I'm calling to let them know what's going on and that Kurt's attendance won't be regular for a while," Carole said after a moment. "He's going to be at the hospital a lot and–"

She swallowed as the McKinley secretary picked up the line.

"Mrs. Hudson? I'm sorry about the wait–"

Finn crunched on a few chips and watched her as she explained the situation and why she was calling and that, for now, she would be Kurt's acting guardian for absentee notes and all calls regarding him from the school. She was suddenly very grateful that Burt and her had decided to add both of their names to each boy's emergency cards at the beginning of the school year. It made the entire process much simpler.

While she was waiting for the woman to finish adding her notes to give to various teachers and staff, there was a knock at the door. Finn jumped up and thundered out of the room, chip bag in tow. Carole barely paid attention to it. It was probably one of Burt's co-workers from the shop, coming for news on how he was doing. Carole made a mental note to call one of them if she could find their phone numbers. They needed to know what the situation was so Steve could be there to open in the morning since he was the only other person with a key.

The secretary finished her notes and Carole said goodbye before hanging up. The room was spinning and her head was throbbing. Everything had been fine just the other day. Blaine and Kurt had started talking again, Burt had told her over the phone just last night that everything Kurt had suspected was true, and while she had her own questions, she'd been willing to wait to ask them. Their lives had become so positive and happy recently and now nothing felt right. It felt cracked and ready to shatter if there was just one wrong blip on Burt's heart monitors.

After a few deep breaths, Carole sat down at the counter where Finn had just been. It was strangely painful to be in Burt's kitchen – a place where they'd cooked and laughed so often – and to know he wasn't going to walk through the door tonight. He might never walk through a door again.

"M- Mrs. Hudson?"

Blaine's hesitant voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see him standing in the opening to the living room, lower lip between his teeth and eyes bright with unshed tears. In Kurt's abrupt hurry to leave the hospital earlier, she'd unwittingly left Blaine down in the cafeteria. Finn had taken him downstairs to get him something to eat or a coffee while Carole had gone inside Burt's room. She hadn't understood why Kurt had so suddenly turned Blaine away, but once she was in the room she'd figured it out rather quickly. Kurt thought Blaine was there to take his dad away, and Blaine, not knowing that Carole knew the truth, hadn't said anything about why he was out in the hall.

"Blaine," she greeted, trying to smile and only managing a grimace. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry we just left like that. Kurt really wanted to get out of there and–"

"It's fine," Blaine assured her. "The walk here gave me some time to clear my head a little. I just, um, wanted to drop Kurt's bag off. He left it in the waiting room."

He unhooked one of the bags over his shoulder and set it down on the kitchen table. With another surge of guilt, Carole looked him over, taking in the sweat on his brow and around the collar of his shirt. Blaine had arrived at the hospital with Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury, and Mr. Schuester. When they'd all left he'd had no ride back here. She looked him over, from the curls pulling loose from his gel down to his muddy shoes. The hospital was miles from here.

"Oh, Blaine, you should have called," Carole said sadly. "I'm so sorry. I just forgot with everything and I didn't realize you didn't have a ride and– your feet must be so sore."

"It's fine," Blaine repeated. He bit his lip as Carole bustled over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. "H- how's Kurt?" he asked uncertainly. "I... he's mad at me and I didn't want to call and upset him so–"

"He's shut himself down in his room," she admitted, a pressure starting behind her eyes. "I don't– I'm not sure how to reach him or if I should give him space for right now."

Blaine swallowed, accepted the bottle of water, but didn't open it. "He... he doesn't like to be alone when he's upset," he said carefully. "He might push everyone away, but he really just wants someone to push back and–"

"Do you want to take some soup down to him?" Carole said abruptly, gesturing to the stove top where a big pot was still on the burner. It was just a dozen cans of store brand chicken noodle, but trying to cook anything, especially here without Burt, wasn't something she could handle right now. "He needs you," she added, knowing that of the three of them, Blaine was the one Kurt would want. Blaine was the only one who had dealt with Kurt's grief before, even if it had been eight years ago. Carole bit her lip for a moment before continuing, "You know him best after all. Finn and I didn't even know Kurt when his mother died, but you... you were there for him then so–"

Blaine choked on his water and dribbled some down his polo. "Y- you– how did you–"

"Burt told me after Kurt confronted you," she admitted, watching him carefully. "He said he didn't really want to believe it, but... there aren't a lot of other choices but to believe it, especially with how you reacted."

Blaine nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable as he screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'll ever react well to, I guess."

"Right," Carole agreed awkwardly. She turned back to the stove, grabbed a bowl from the few she'd set out and started filling it with soup. Then she filled a second and told Blaine to grab the tray from under the island. Together they arranged the two bowls, drinks, and napkins, before she carefully handed it all to Blaine.

"He's probably fallen asleep by now," Carole said uncertainly. "I'm really not sure. I've called down to him a few times, but he doesn't answer and I don't want to upset him further–"

"He's still awake," Blaine told her with such certainty that Carole briefly wondered if Blaine being dead meant he had some sort of bizarre set of superpowers. "I'll see if I can get him to eat or sleep, okay? He might just throw the whole tray back in my face, but–"

"He won't," Carole assured him. "You're his best friend and he's hurt and scared and worrying himself to death."

Blaine nodded at her, let her open Kurt's door for him, then headed down to his room. She watched him disappear around the bend in the staircase, then closed the door. In an hour or two she'd go down and check on them. Right now, she had to feed Finn and then give herself a little while to let everything from today sink in.

After making sure Finn was set with dinner, Carole headed upstairs and into the master room. She regretted entering the room at all, but it was the only place that had a few changes of clothes for her besides her own house. Trying her best to ignore the pajamas flung across the unmade bed, Carole tugged the top drawer open and pulled out her own pajamas. As quickly as she could, she left the room and headed to the hallway bathroom. There was a much nicer bathroom in Burt's room, but she couldn't stomach the thought of being in there right now.

Carole spent close to an hour in the shower, sitting down under the hot spray and finally letting herself cry and release all the emotions she'd held back for the sake of Kurt and Finn. By the time she returned to the main floor, Finn was back in the living room, the dishes were (surprisingly) cleaned up, and there was one bowl left out for her to eat. Touched at her son's unexpected thoughtfulness, Carole sat down to eat while Finn hollered at the baseball game in the other room.

She cleaned up her own bowl afterwards, and headed into the living room.

"Have you seen Blaine or Kurt since I went upstairs?" she asked, rubbing Finn's shoulder to draw him out of the game.

"Huh? Oh, no," Finn said disinterestedly. "I think they're watching something else downstairs. Kurt doesn't like baseball."

Carole patted him on the shoulder, and looked towards Kurt's bedroom door. It was still sealed shut. "I'm going to go check on them," she said. "Kurt's had a rough day."

Finn nodded and met her eyes for a moment. It was rare when she saw him look so serious, but she was grateful to see how much Finn cared about Kurt.

"Tell him there's a bunch of pizzas in the freezer in the garage if he doesn't want the soup," Finn insisted, looking concerned.

"I will, dear," she agreed, knowing Kurt wouldn't care a bit about food right now, but with Finn it was everything and the suggestion came from his heart.

Carole stood up and left Finn with his game as she turned and opened Kurt's door. Silence greeted her, but she descended the stairs anyway. Hopefully they would both be asleep now. They had to be exhausted after today. If Blaine was asleep it would mean not having to ask the difficult questions that had been ricocheting around in her head all day.

With a shake of her head, Carole stepped onto the landing and looking into Kurt's room. The lights were still off, but the television was on and the same game from upstairs was playing. She watched the screen for a moment, seeing the words scrolling up the screen because it had been muted. The choice of programming surprised her, but when she stepped down the last few steps and looked at the bed she understood why.

Kurt was sleeping soundly, head tucked against Blaine's shoulder and arms curled around the other boy's waist. If the circumstances had been different, it would have been a sight that would make her heart leap pleasantly. But Kurt was exhausted and upset, could potentially loose his father in the coming days. As much as she loved seeing Kurt and Blaine grow closer, she hated the reason why.

Blaine glanced over at her as she approached and gave a little half-wave from under Kurt's weight.

"He fell asleep not long after I came down," Blaine whispered, rubbing the hand curled under Kurt over his side soothingly. "Cried himself to sleep," he added sadly, "but I think he really needed it."

Carole nodded and sat down by Blaine's knees, gently brushing her hand over Kurt's cheek and hair as he slept. She wished Blaine had been asleep, too, because she hated how uncertain she felt about him and why he was here. Instead of asking the questions she desperately wanted answers for, Carole smiled softly at them.

"He's so peaceful when he's asleep," Carole said, eyeing Kurt's face. His jaw was relaxed and his hair had fallen down into his eyes. For a moment she could almost see the little boy Burt had showed her in old pictures.

"Yeah, he's a bit heavy though," Blaine grumbled, shifting a bit. "My whole left side has fallen asleep."

Carole smiled at his words, the first true smile since earlier that afternoon. "Yeah, he's grown a lot since me and Burt started–"

She paused and swallowed heavily, blinking repeatedly to keep her tears in check. Right now she couldn't afford to cry. Kurt and Finn and even Blaine were depending on her. Breaking down wasn't an option.

"Hey," Blaine said gently and she suddenly felt his hand close over where hers was resting on the bed. "It's all right. There's nothing wrong with crying."

His astuteness surprised her. Carole dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve and smiled again. The warmth and strength of Blaine's grip was shocking, too. After everything Carole had heard recently she'd expected him to be cold and brittle, more like a corpse than the young man she'd become acquainted with in the past month.

"I know, they just need me right now and I can't– I won't let them down," Carole said carefully. She bit her lip and glanced at Blaine, who was watching her almost expectantly.

"You can ask if you want," Blaine said after a moment, looking resigned. "Kurt already has. That's why he was mad, but I know you're probably thinking the same thing."

"You're here for Burt," Carole whispered, heart sinking with the weight of her certainty. Blaine looked so guilty when she spoke that it had to be true. Just like Blaine had been here when Kurt's mother had died, he was here now when Burt was fighting for his life.

"I'm not sure," Blaine admitted. "All I was told was to be here for Kurt and help him. I don't know what's going to happen anymore than you guys do." He cleared his throat and grimaced as he tried to free his left arm a little. "People have heart attacks all the time and they're fine–"

"But you're here."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed quietly. "I am."

They both fell silent. Blaine plucked at a loose thread on Kurt's sweater while Carole looked him over once more. He was so young, so gentle and kind. It horrified her to imagine what he'd been through in order to be here right now. Burt had said a little about the article Kurt had found, enough for Carole to know that Blaine's death had been traumatic, but she couldn't picture anyone being so cruel to such a sweet boy.

Yet, this same sweet boy wasn't really a boy. Blaine was, or should be, older than her, despite his appearance. He had been dead and some type of ghost thing for decades, and now...

ow he might be here to take Burt. Kurt's father. Finn's first real chance at having one after Christopher had died could be gone forever. Burt, who Carole had spent the past year falling in love with and hoping to spend many years more with, could leave with Blaine.

"My brother had a heart attack about ten years ago," Blaine said suddenly, looking up from where he was pulling at Kurt's sweater. "He's still alive. Really old, but still here."

His words shocked her once more. Burt and Kurt hadn't mentioned anything about a brother before. "You have a brother?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, well, _had_, I guess. He's old enough to be Kurt's grandfather."

"Gosh, so you're actually...?"

"If I hadn't died?" Blaine clarified. "I'd be in my sixties," he added with a cringe. "Some days I feel like it, and then other times I still feel like I'm sixteen."

His eyes drifted down to Kurt as he spoke and the light that appeared there when he brushed Kurt's hair off his forehead told Carole more than any words could. He had feelings for Kurt, perhaps romantic feelings for the first time in his life– well, after life. Blaine was possibly starting to feel all of the things she felt for Burt, and that terrified her almost as much as Burt's coma. If Blaine reciprocated Kurt's crush Carole could only imagine the heartache in store for both of them.

"I don't know," Blaine mumbled miserably. "There's so much I don't know, about this or life or anything," he added helplessly. "I might technically be older than you, but I only lived to sixteen. I've done a lot, helped a lot of people and stuff like that, but I'm still just a kid in a lot of ways."

"We'll figure it out," Caroled decided, easing Kurt off of Blaine so that he could lie down.

She tried to settled Kurt down beside him, but as soon as they were both laying down Kurt latched back onto Blaine and buried his face into the curve of his neck. Blushing, Blaine rubbed his face and yawned.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Carole told him. "We'll all go see Burt in the morning."

Carole was on the first step when Blaine's voice brought her back.

"I'm here until June, Carole, and I wish I could tell all of you that Burt is going to be fine, but I just don't know," Blaine confessed softly. He pressed his cheek against Kurt's hair in the glow of the television. "I think he will be," he added strongly. "This doesn't feel like one of those missions to me. Not with everything else I know I have to do while I'm here."

With a nod, Carole watched Blaine turn the television off. She listened to the static ripple across the screen and the creak of Kurt's mattress as Blaine shifted to put the remote on the night-stand. Carole hoped he was right, because if Burt died they would all fall apart. Kurt wouldn't make it through that, not without shutting himself away again. Only this time Kurt would lose himself entirely, because Burt would be gone and then in June, Blaine would be gone, too.

* * *

The slap of heavy footfalls from overhead woke Blaine the next morning. He groaned and opened his eyes slowly, finding a tuft of brown hair obscuring most of his view of Kurt's bedroom. It was still early. The window shades were dark, but Blaine could hear birds chirping out in the yard. The same set of feet thundered back across the floor as Blaine shifted and glared blearily up at the ceiling. That had to be Finn. Carole might be heavier than him, but only a teenage boy of Finn's loping grace could make that much racket before dawn.

Blaine yawned widely and nestled more deeply into the pillows, shifting slightly to take the majority of Kurt's dead weight off his numb arm. The shift made Kurt mumble in his sleep, but besides his grip on Blaine's shirt becoming tighter, he didn't move. Once he was sure that Kurt was still asleep, Blaine laid there with the boy's comfortable weight nestled into his side, and let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a few minutes.

Everything was warm and pleasant. It was the same feeling that always came with Kurt's presence, a heavy comfort in his limbs and chest, not from Kurt's weight, but from the warm brush of his breath against Blaine's neck, the soft features and gentle grip Kurt kept on him as he slept peacefully. For a moment, Blaine looked down, admiring Kurt in the semi-darkness. It was remarkable how different he looked from the little boy Blaine had first met. There were still traces of baby fat on his cheeks, but his jaw had grown sharper, his entire face had somehow figured out how to capture a beauty Blaine couldn't remember ever seeing. Despite Kurt's callous words and front, his features still remained gentle and true to the boy Blaine remembered. Kurt was every bit of that little boy still, but just like his body had stretched and grown so had his character.

Blaine smiled softly as Kurt murmured again and smacked his lips as he pressed his face more deeply against Blaine's neck. He was the sweetest person Blaine had ever met. Every inch of him sparkled with it and–

With a jolt in his stomach like a bullfrog trying to escape, Blaine sucked in a deep breath and returned his gaze to the ceiling. He couldn't keep thinking things like that. Kurt was nice, it was true. He was wonderful, but Blaine couldn't let himself get caught up in that. There were any number of things Blaine was here for, but falling in love wasn't one of them. Being in love was one feeling Blaine would never be able to experience.

Yet, he still had no idea what he really was here for, did he? What if–

No. He wasn't here for _that_. With another uncertain glance at Kurt's sleeping form, Blaine tried to slid his arm out from under Kurt's chest and failed. He was stuck then. At least until he woke Kurt up, but the very thought made his stomach flip pleasantly. Kurt would no doubt be adorable as he woke up, with messy hair and sleepy eyes.

Blaine shook his head and tried his best to scatter the thoughts. Falling in love and getting romantically involved with the boy he was here to help wasn't something he could ever do.

Of course, he knew the basics – face his past, help Kurt with something similar and his own bullies – but that wouldn't be enough to cover his time until June. Burt's coma was the only other logical issue he had to fill his time here and the idea that it would be that prolonged made Blaine feel nauseous.

Everything about this last mission was unusual from his uncovered identity to the lack of anything obvious that needed to be helped along by him. There was nothing to really spend his time focusing on except the one thing he couldn't stand to face. Perhaps that was the point. With no random little side projects to mess with, the only thing Blaine had to focus on was the biggest reason he was still here.

Finn's footfalls thundered back across the ceiling once more and Blaine rolled his eyes. He knew Finn in passing mostly, but he was fond of him. He seemed nice enough, if a little clueless. Kurt's bedroom door slapped open at the top of the stairs and Finn's feet carried him down to the basement bedroom with the grace of a stomping elephant.

"Hey, are you guys– hey, Blaine!"

"Shh!" Blaine said quickly, blushing as Kurt grumbled and squeezed him tighter. "Kurt's still asleep."

"Oh, sorry," Finn apologized as he stopped at the foot of the bed. "Did he eat? Cause I told Mom to tell him there's other stuff besides soup and eating always makes me feel better."

"No, I figure we can get him to eat a little today," Blaine said softly, watching Kurt's eyelashes flutter. Despite asking Finn to be quieter, he was still loud. It wouldn't be long before his voice woke Kurt up and Blaine was dreading it. Seeing Kurt wake up and go from warm and cozy to alert and upset once he remembered what had happened to his father wasn't going to be enjoyable.

"The hospital has pretty good pizza," Finn remarked. "I used to eat it all the time as a kid when my mom couldn't find a babysitter."

Blaine smiled slightly and nodded. In his own way, Finn was trying to be helpful and he appreciated it. Kurt might get annoyed by it, but Blaine understood the other boy.

"It sounds great," Blaine agreed. He shifted slightly and tried in vain to get himself out from under Kurt's weight. "Could you–"

"Oh, yeah! Sure!" Finn hurried forward and rolled Kurt off of Blaine rather roughly. Kurt groaned and whined, but Blaine sat up and stretched before Kurt could tug him back down again.

"Thanks," Blaine muttered, rubbing his left arm. "It's been asleep since he rolled over onto it last night while I was watching the game."

Finn stared at him in amazement as Kurt buried his face in one of his pillows and stopped shifting. "You like _sports_?"

Bewildered, Blaine glanced up and took in Finn's startled, but hopeful expression.

"Yeah, have since I was a kid," Blaine told him slowly. He was more than a little worried at how much that statement seemed to mean to Finn. "My friend and I used to–" Blaine stopped and tried not to flinch. They'd played baseball together at the park since they'd met at the stream behind their cul-de-sac as young kids. It was the same bat that had– "We grew up watching and playing," Blaine finished, his voice weak.

"But you're, like, gay, dude," Finn blurted, eyeing him like he was an exotic bird. "I thought all gay guys like the same stuff as Kurt. Isn't that how you tell them apart?"

"I– Finn, no," Blaine answered in disbelief. "That's not– I mean, I do like similar things to Kurt, too, but what interests you has no relationship to _who _interests you."

"But Kurt's always–"

"Kurt isn't every gay man in the world, Finn," Blaine told him slowly. "Some people like sports and some don't. Some people are gay and some aren't. Kurt might be interested in things that more girls are typically into, but he's still a guy regardless of what he likes. It's pretty simple."

"I– yeah, I guess." Finn frowned at his feet, looking thoughtful and slightly confused by everything Blaine had said.

Maybe this was another part of Blaine's mission. He could make Kurt's future easier if he helped those around him learn to not accept stereotypes so readily. He shrugged and stretched his shoulders before standing up.

"Well, Mom said breakfast is ready, so I'm just gonna... go eat," Finn jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs. Blaine nodded and thanked him as the other boy hurried towards the stairs.

He was just leaning down to begin waking Kurt up when Finn's voice made him pause.

"So do you like video games, too? Me and the guys – the Glee guys – usually hang out and play and stuff on the weekends," Finn mentioned uncertainly. "Kurt can't stand them, but if you're into them and ever want to hang out... "

Finn left the offer at that, but Blaine was surprised by it. Nobody besides Kurt had given him the time of day. It was a funny feeling to realize that someone outside of his focus person wanted to get to know him. Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed and nudged Kurt gently. He beamed down at him as Kurt twisted away and grumbled.

"He really likes you," Finn's voice informed him, suddenly much closer.

Startled, Blaine looked up and found Finn back at the foot of Kurt's bed, looking sad but hopeful, too.

"I think it's different than how he liked me last year," Finn told him. "He kind of creeped me out with it sometimes, but it's not the same with you 'cause you like him, too."

"I–"

"It's nice to see him smile like he does when you're over here, or when he talks about you," Finn continued strongly. "I've never seen Burt or my mom or Kurt or any of us as happy as we have been since you moved here. It's just been... nice to feel like we're finally finding a way to be a real family."

_Except for Burt's heart attack and coma_.

Blaine could hear the unspoken words that Finn left out of his little speech. If he was honest, he didn't want to bring it up either, but he also knew there was no other option but to face it, accept it, and figure out how to move forward from where they were now.

"Hurry up so we can make Kurt eat, okay?" Finn hollered. He took off, leaping his way up the stairs as Blaine gently shook Kurt's shoulder.

He tried not to sigh fondly at the little burble Kurt let out as he curled tighter around himself to fend off Blaine's attempts to rouse him. Attachment was one thing; it was even encouraged for missions. It made them more invested in what was going on and helping people, and, in turn, eventually helping themselves. But what he was feeling, this tumbling, spiraling, helpless, wondrous fall his stomach and heart kept taking every time he saw Kurt wasn't productive. It wasn't going to help either of them in the long run. If anything, it was only going to make things worse.

"Kurt, come on," Blaine insisted, shaking him and rolling him onto his back. "We've got to get some food into you."

Kurt groaned, but after a few more nudges, he blinked his eyes open and squinted at Blaine.

"Bre'fas?"

"Yeah, Finn said it's done," Blaine answered gently, trying and failing to hold back the smile pulling back his lips. He was in so much trouble already. A month in and he was falling hopelessly in love with the person he was here to help.

Kurt yawned and stretched languidly before balling his fists and rubbing his eyes with them. It was so adorable Blaine had to look away. What was he going to do now? If he couldn't keep his biggest secret from Kurt for more than a few weeks, then how was he going to hide this for another eight months?

"I'm gonna clean my face," Kurt muttered.

Blaine watched him slid off the bed and disappear into his bathroom. He sat there and stared at the empty bed for a long time, trying to convince himself that the funny tugging in his chest and the swoop of his stomach were just strange after effects from his Rupture. With a glance at the bathroom door, Blaine stood and hurried upstairs. If he got his head on straight and finally figured out where to focus his energy, then he could forget this. Falling in love wasn't an option available to him. He was dead and soon he'd be gone from this world forever. Kurt could never know. None of this was fair to him. The truth of Blaine's feelings would scare him off or, even worse, it would make him crave more between them and Blaine couldn't torment either of them in that way. Somehow, Blaine was going to have to forget this, to pretend he'd never experienced it or known how it felt. For Kurt's best interests he had to find a way to let this go.


	15. Chapter 14: Between

A/N: Okay, guys, hi, hello. I hope you all are going okay right now. I debated when to post this and such, but I'm just gonna say it. It's a good chapter. There's some sad things, but it ends on a happy note. Otherwise, I'd wait a while longer considering the terrible news about Cory.

I know it's not much, but I'm dedicating this chapter to Cory, Lea, both of their families, and the entire Glee crew and cast. You guys have met more to us all than you can imagine and we're here for you, even at a distance.

Enjoy the update and remember the laughs and good times!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 14: Between**

Kurt couldn't remember a weekend ever lasting as long as the first one in October did. With Blaine, Finn, and Carole around, he thought it wouldn't drag so much, but the time spent at the hospital seemed to never end. There was a steady stream of doctors checking in once an hour, and nurses every thirty minutes. Carole explained everything they did after they left and even talked to a few of them that she worked with on a frequent basis. None of it made Kurt feel any better about the situation. The only thing the doctors' constant presence did was remind him of how dire everything was right now.

It all would have been completely unbearable without Blaine at his side. Blaine was patient and steady. He didn't pry or push or shove food at him like Finn. He didn't smile sadly at Kurt like Carole did or act any different than he had before his dad's heart attack. The normalcy Blaine brought was just what he needed and Kurt was incredibly grateful for it even if he didn't say so.

All weekend, they sat around Burt's room, alternating between homework and talking to Burt and each other. By the time they returned home Sunday night, Kurt's brain was filled with the steady rhythm of his father's heart monitor and Blaine's gentle, murmuring encouragement. The sounds followed him around his dreams and even to school the next morning, the blip haunting but fading thanks to Blaine's voice. As long as it remained steady in his mind, then there was no reason to worry himself. Kurt kept that mantra in his head throughout the week, ignoring the doctors concerns and everything he'd read and heard about comas that progressed past a few days. His dad's heart was recovering well and he was going to wake up. Blaine was sure of it and so was he.

By Thursday afternoon, however, Kurt's resolve to stay strong and take hope from Blaine's stance had started to waver. In another day his dad would be comatose for a full week. Despite Blaine's steady faith in Burt's recovery, Kurt couldn't ignore the doctors' words anymore. After a week, Burt's chances of ever waking up were halved.

Stiff with fear from the moment he woke up Thursday morning, Kurt let Finn drive them to school, then ran through his pre-class routine on autopilot. Kurt was halfway through switching his books out of his locker when someone stopped beside him. His first expectation was Blaine, but when he turned he was surprised to find Mercedes watching him hopefully.

"Hey, boy," she greeted, looking nervous and unsure.

"H- hey," Kurt returned, trying to smile at her. He liked her. He really did. She was a wonderful girl and so far they were getting along great, but nobody except Blaine had really spoken to him since his dad's heart attack. Kurt guessed they were all scared of setting him off or having him cry all over their horrible clothing.

"How are you?" she asked, shifting the books in her arms and smiling. "H- how's your dad doing?"

Kurt wilted at her words. "Nothing's changed," he admitted sullenly. He grabbed his history notebook from his locker and shut it. "It'll be a week tomorrow."

Mercedes bit her lip and looked him over. "Look, Kurt, I... Blaine said you weren't religious or anything and to not pester you about anything like that, but I am and I've been praying and hoping he'll get better every night. I don't want to upset you with that, but... I really hope he wakes up soon. You're one of my friends, and the only kid in this school who has an ounce of fashion sense, and I just hope he wakes up."

Kurt stared at her for a long moment. A month ago he would have snapped at her for praying for his dad. He would have brushed her off and prattled on about how God's followers told him he was going to Hell and any number of other things. But he thought about Blaine. Dead and stuck in some starved, sad half-existence until he faced his past. It was hard to say anything when he knew there was something after this world. Even Blaine didn't know what existed Beyond, only that there was something more waiting.

"Thanks," he said softly, hugging his books to his chest. "I don't really– they all say I'm going to Hell because I'm gay, but... I'm glad you care. It means a lot."

"Of course I do," she insisted, shifting her bag on her shoulder. "Is it okay if I hug you? You look like you could use one and it's either me or Rachel."

Kurt laughed a little at the last bit and gratefully accepted her tentative embrace. It wasn't like Blaine's were, but it was still warm and full of compassion. Having friends was definitely something he could get used to.

They stood and talked for a few more minutes before Blaine appeared, looking a little flushed and rumpled. Kurt's stomach plummeted at the sight because his first instinct was to think that Blaine had been stuffed in the janitor's closet with some attractive boy, just like everyone else he knew did. But that was ridiculous for any number of reasons. Blaine didn't know anyone outside of Glee Club. He was also leaving in June and wasn't here for such things, and if anybody should be doing that with Blaine, then it ought to be Kurt. Startled at his own daring thoughts, Kurt blushed as Blaine adjusted his shirt and held his books between his thighs to fix himself.

"Hey Kurt, Mercedes," he greeted, voice breathless. "Jack forgot he was supposed to drive me this morning," he added as he carefully ran a hand through his damp curls. Kurt could smell the raspberry hair gel even from a few feet away, but there wasn't nearly as much product as usual. Most of it was no doubt mixed in with the sweat trailing down Blaine's face and neck. "Had to run the whole fourteen blocks here."

Mercedes gapped at him and started helping him straighten his shirt out. She eyed the sweat stains sadly. "You probably should have brought a second shirt," she told him. "It's going to take that a while to dry."

"It's fine. I'll change and shower during Weight Lifting later," Blaine said absentmindedly, pulling his books out from between his legs and glancing over at Kurt. He smiled widely, eyes bright and sweet. Everything about Blaine was sweet; from the deep sincerity in his voice to the little bow tie Mercedes was fixing around his neck. With a gulp, Kurt looked away. He didn't understand his thoughts right now at all. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay," Kurt answered quietly. "Not as good as Friday night," he added before he could change his mind. It was true, at least. He'd slept incredibly well tucked against Blaine's side that night. Better than he had in a very long time, if he was being honest.

Blaine nodded, his smile fading as Mercedes slid her arm through each of theirs and started leading them down the hall to their history class. While the other two talked, Kurt tried to get his stomach to start behaving. He'd always thought Blaine was handsome, even as a boy. But this was new. Something was changing and it wasn't something he needed right now. Not with his dad in the hospital and all of the worry that came with that.

For the rest of the school day, Kurt was keenly aware of the way he reacted when he was around Blaine. He was so cautious, he knew Blaine had started to notice the difference, but he hoped the other boy was just putting it down to his worries about his dad. This was different than anything Kurt had ever felt before. At least he thought it was. It wasn't like his hopeless, safe little crush on Finn last year. It wasn't even like the crushes he'd had on actors and handsome models he'd seen in his magazines. Maybe the added stress he was under was making him think his attraction to Blaine was something it wasn't. Sure he liked Blaine. That had never been a problem. But Blaine wasn't _Blaine_ anymore. He wasn't just the childhood friend or the mentor helping him along. There was a realness to him that had never existed in Kurt's mind before. He had demons and pains and regrets and wasn't just here as Kurt's friend. Blaine was here for himself and, somehow, that made all the difference.

By the time they arrived at the hospital after Glee rehearsal, Kurt was exhausted from all of his thoughts and new worries. Blaine seemed to sense it, because his hand took Kurt's elbow and led him through the halls to his dad's room in the back corner of the seventh floor.

Doctor Rubens, one of several doctors Kurt had become familiar with over the last week, was inside the room, checking monitors and scribbling on his clipboard.

"Hello, Kurt, Blaine," he greeted kindly as he watched them duck in and drop their bags on the little table and chairs the staff had set up for them.

"How is he?" Kurt asked instantly. Blaine's hand stayed on his elbow and Kurt felt his cheeks turn pink as the other boy stepped up behind him, his other hand rubbing Kurt's shoulder gently. His entire stomach leapt and squirmed at the sensation. He was just tired and hungry. That had to be it. When Finn got here after his practice he'd let the other boy stuff him full of whatever greasy fast food he brought with him until he passed out. That would put an end to this.

"His heart's getting stronger, but I'm afraid nothing else has changed since last night," Doctor Rubens told him sadly. "He's a strong man, Kurt. For now his body's just healing up from everything as far as I can tell. It's a good sign, and I'm hopeful that we might see some changes soon once his body thinks his heart is strong enough."

Kurt nodded as Doctor Rubens finished and left. Blaine led him over to the little loveseat. It was ancient and sunk so low when they sat on it that Kurt figured they'd be better off sitting on the floor, but he didn't say anything about it. As much as he hated the ugly little sofa, he was glad he could have Blaine pressed against his side and the other boy's arm around his shoulders.

"He'll get there," Blaine's voice said simply. "Coop, my real brother, had one about ten years ago. He wasn't in a coma or anything, but he survived a triple bypass. Your dad's just as strong as him, and a hell of a lot younger. He's going to pull through this."

Kurt rubbed his eyes tiredly and nodded. Blaine had talked about Cooper a few times in recent weeks, but it was still strange to hear about a man in his seventies who was only supposed to be nine years older than Blaine.

They settled down into the creaky sofa, pulling out their history books and notebooks to work on their assignment for tomorrow morning. Blaine read aloud like Kurt enjoyed; the sound of Blaine's smooth tenor was much more relaxing than the beep of half a dozen heart monitors across the room. Burt was so tiny looking from this vantage point, lying stiff and motionless in that tangle of wires and drab hospital bedding and gown. He was nothing like the father Kurt had adored as a boy or the one he'd walked eggshells around for the past few years. It scared him to see his father like this, more like a premature newborn in an incubator than a man in his early forties.

"– Germany invaded Poland on–"

"Does it hurt?" Kurt asked suddenly, cutting through Blaine's reading on the start of the second World War.

"Does– what?" Blaine looked up from his textbook and watched Kurt carefully. Immediately, Kurt could tell he knew exactly what was being asked, but he seemed incredibly hesitant to answer it.

"Dying," Kurt elaborated more weakly. He felt nervous all of a sudden, like a lake normally stagnant and soft was suddenly bubbling and frothing onto the shore around it. "Does it– did it hurt when you died? I mean, like, not the b- before," Kurt winced at how thoughtless he sounded. Of course that part had hurt. What had happened to Blaine had no doubt been worse than any pain Kurt would ever feel in his life. "Like when you're actually slipping away does it hurt to... go?"

His eyes fell on his dad's silent form in the bed across the room. Blaine's gaze followed his before it returned to the textbook in his lap. He closed it gently and set it aside.

"At first it does," Blaine said slowly, voice tight. "That might just be because of how I... well, you know. Then you kind of start seeing things," Blaine continued, eyes distant. "Remembering things, memories that are yours and others that aren't. It's like Time unwinds, unravels and sucks you more deeply into it before it just collapses and forces you out forever. You're not part of its progression anymore, so you seeing any part of it doesn't matter. _You _don't matter anymore. You're an empty shell that's lost all purpose except the little bit you can find for yourself."

The sharp bitterness in Blaine's words zapped through Kurt like electricity. That was nothing like he'd been imagining, nothing like he wanted to experience. It wasn't the answer he'd hoped for, but at least he had Blaine's experience to understand it better. For a second, he turned away from his dad's side of the room and watched Blaine; the way his hands were twisted together and the tenseness in his jaw as he bit his lip and stared down at his knees. There was so much longing and regret in Blaine that it terrified Kurt to realize he might have to unbury it to help Blaine the way Blaine was helping him. Opening all of that back up after fifty years of bitterness and regrets was like erupting a dormant volcano and expecting only a few puffs of smoke.

"That sounds scary," Kurt whispered, pulling his legs up onto the couch and tucking them under him.

"It's not," Blaine assured him. "I mean, while it's happening you don't really understand any of it and I was so out of it already because of what happened that I just thought I was hallucinating."

Kurt hugged himself and tentatively rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. He felt Blaine relax some from the contact and, as Blaine's head tilted onto his, Kurt bit his lip and slowly eased one hand into one of Blaine's and then the other up into Blaine's curls where he started to slowly stroke his scalp. It wasn't something he'd ever done before, but it felt right. Blaine hummed happily as Kurt's fingers rubbed and he melted down against Kurt like honey.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that so soon," Kurt said quietly as Blaine relaxed against him. "It's not fair that you lost everything before you really had it."

"Life wasn't meant to be fair," Blaine remarked bitterly. "That's what my grandfather always told me as a kid. At least he doesn't say it anymore. I guess he doesn't want to hear it now that he's stuck, too."

Startled, Kurt sat up a little, his hand slipping from Blaine's curls. "Your grandfather's in the Between?"

Blaine nodded and shrugged. "He's been there for a while, but we don't really get along, you know? He stopped caring about me once I came out. Having a gay grandson didn't really fit into his life."

His words surprised Kurt, but he didn't say anything as he sunk back down beside Blaine. There had to be a reason Blaine's apparently homophobic grandfather was in the Between as well. It seemed odd that the two were there together unless there was a connection.

As they sat in silence for several more minutes, Kurt let his mind wander back through the day. It had felt a lot longer than it had actually been. Between Mercedes bringing herself into his life and then Rachel hounding him to sing a sad duet about his father's situation to help him feel better the day had never seemed to end.

"Blaine," Kurt said, "can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe in God?" he asked, thinking about Mercedes and her prayers. Surely there had to be a logical reason so many people believed in such a being. Perhaps Blaine could enlighten him on if there was a reason to have such hopes.

"I– when I was growing up I was raised Catholic," Blaine confessed. "I just believed what I was told for a long time until I figured out I was gay. Then I started questioning a lot of things. At this point, I honestly don't. I've never seen a god or God. I think there's something out there, but I don't know if it's an actual, conscious being. The closest I've ever encountered is Time, but anything could be Beyond, I guess."

Kurt nodded, stomach loosening in relief. If Blaine still didn't believe after being dead for decades, then Kurt was safe. There was no reason to fret about it, and maybe in the long run it didn't matter. Why would he want to believe in someone who would smite those who didn't believe or believed in other things? That had never felt right to him considering all he'd learned about Christianity throughout his life.

"I think there're more important things than believing in a cosmic being," Blaine pondered. "Like being a good, caring person and doing something you enjoy and value with your time and life. Just because you don't fit into the boxes religions want you to or that society wants, doesn't mean you don't have merit."

"That's how I feel," Kurt confessed. "Just because I don't believe in something nobody can prove exists doesn't mean I don't have faith in something. I have faith in me and my dad and what we have. That's what's sacred to me."

"I'm glad it is," Blaine murmured. "What you and your dad have is something I always wanted with mine. Me and Coop were close, but... having that relationship with a parent is different than a brother."

Kurt sighed, eyes tearing up as he looked back over at his dad. He couldn't stand the thought of this all ending and never having his dad back. Losing his mother so young had been bad enough, but he'd still had Burt. Together, they'd pieced their lives back into some semblance of normalcy and found something really great. If he lost Burt now, Kurt would have nothing. He didn't even know where he would end up living. Carole, for all her sweetness and caring, couldn't take him in. One of his grandparents would probably do it, or his Aunt Catherine who lived in Portland.

"Is my mom there?" Kurt wondered softly, nuzzling his nose against Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine's hand squeezed his tightly. "Not that I've ever seen, but there's a lot of different areas they separate us by. I'm sure she's Beyond, especially now that you're doing so much better. She probably never even went to the Between since she found her soulmate."

"H- her soulmate?" Kurt echoed in surprise.

"Yeah, your dad was one of hers," Blaine explained. "Some people have lots, others only have one. Your dad and mom were soulmates. So were my grandparents. Someday you'll find yours, too."

"I hope so," Kurt said quietly, trying vainly to picture the man of his dreams. Only a dark, shadowy form appeared in his mind's eye. "I hope she's Beyond and it's wonderful there."

"My grandfather said it's different for everyone, but I'm sure she's at peace," Blaine decided. "I can't imagine Beyond being anything but what a person desires or needs most. For most that's just peace and contentment."

Kurt threaded his fingers back through Blaine's curls and yawned. "I hope yours is what you need," he murmured. "Even if we'll never see each other again, I hope you find peace."

"I hope so, too, but–"

Blaine paused for so long that Kurt's started to feel nervous. He could scarcely imagine having to let go of all his hopes and dreams for his life. Saying goodbye to everything he'd wanted, but never had a chance to get. New York, college, respect for his talents and ambitions, a boyfriend and eventual husband, even children some day. Letting go of so much couldn't be easy.

Blaine still wished he had all of that, that he still had his life to live and discover instead of having it ripped from him so thoughtlessly.

"If I could give you it all back, Blaine, I would," Kurt told him honestly. "I wish I could, like, take mine and share it with you or something."

Blaine's laugh was a little watery as he dropped his cheek onto Kurt's hair and slid his arm around Kurt's waist.

"If only it was that easy," Blaine said sadly. "Nothing can undo what's happened, I'm afraid."

"That doesn't mean you can't make the most of what time you've got here," Kurt reminded him, fighting down another yawn. "Nationals are in New York this year, if we make it. That's one place I know you wanted to be, and I'm sure we can find you a cute boy to go on a few dates with–"

"N- no," Blaine stammered. "God, no. I can't do that to– I'd rather never know that one," he said finally. "It'll make things easier to not know that."

Kurt frowned, but didn't reply except to yawn a third time as his eyes drooped closed. Next to him, he felt a yawn bubble in Blaine's chest as he started to drift off to sleep.

* * *

_Kurt had wandered off. It was the first thing Elizabeth's sister, Catherine, told him when he arrived back at home from the hospital. He'd been saying goodbye, his own private goodbye before he let Kurt have his. He felt like vomiting, both from his son's apparent disappearance and the thought of his little boy having to say goodbye to his mother. Kurt wouldn't understand it at all, not when he was so young._

_"Burt, he was just here, up in his room and–"_

_"He couldn't have gotten far," Catherine assured him. "I'm sure he's just down the street or in the yard. Maybe at the park," she deduced. "Elizabeth said he's missed getting to swing there since she went to the hospital."_

_Burt was out the door before she could finish. Of course he was at the park. Kurt had missed an entire summer of his childhood, being cooped up in doctor's offices and hospital waiting rooms and exam rooms. His son loved the park and getting outside to play when it was nice. But only when it was nice. He didn't like what humidity did to his hair or getting mud caked onto his shiny shoes that Burt didn't entirely understand the appeal of. There were a lot of things about Kurt that he didn't get, but that Elizabeth did._

_"Kurt? Kurt!"_

_Burt raced down the street, darting across Kensington Avenue and towards the park the next block over. Kurt had to be there, he couldn't lose his little boy, too._

_"Kurt?"_

_He skidded to a halt just inside the entrance to the park. It was deserted. Not even the swings were creaking in the breeze. Panicking, Burt grabbed his chest and felt it constrict. Something was wrong. Kurt should be here. He was _supposed_ to be here, just like he had been all those years ago..._

_"Relax, Burt, he's fine," said a gentle voice from his side. _

_With a start, Burt spun around and found a beautiful young woman seated on a bench that overlooked the playground. Her hair was wavy and brown, her face thin and pale like porcelain, and her eyes–_

_"Elizabeth," Burt breathed, his chest twanging uncomfortably again as she stood and clasped his hand._

_"Sit," she insisted. "Kurt's fine. He's had you this whole time, hasn't he?"_

_"I– he needed you, though," Burt stammered as they sat on the bench. Her hands closed around his left, massaging and rubbing the stiffness from his tendons. She always knew what he needed even before he knew how to voice it. It was one of the reasons he'd always cherished her so much. The ache in his chest eased as she smiled over at him. "I've missed you," he admitted. "God, I'd almost forgotten how much you and Kurt look alike."_

_"He has your spirit," she said playfully. It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times while she'd been alive. For once, Burt didn't care to argue._

_"He's alone, out here somewhere and–"_

_"No, he's not," Elizabeth said gently. She nodded towards the swings again. "See for yourself."_

_Burt turned, not expecting to see anything but an empty playground. He was stunned to find his little boy there, seated in the closest swing while another boy, older and very neatly dressed, swung slowly in the other. They were talking quietly about something that looked very serious._

_When he turned back to Elizabeth he was surprised to see her smiling over at the two._

_"I- is that Blaine?" he asked uncertainly. There was a haziness in the air that hadn't been there the first time he'd looked. Everything seemed to being shifting and blowing now. The wind was picking up; a storm was coming._

_"I told you Kurt wasn't alone," Elizabeth said smartly, teasingly. "He'll never be alone because he has Blaine."_

_"But he's leaving," Burt told her. "In June, he's gone."_

_"Real, true love never leaves us, Burt," Elizabeth reminded him. "You know that and now it's Kurt's turn to start that journey."_

_"Yeah, but this is different–" Burt started to insist, but she pressed a soft finger to his lips until he fell silent._

_"He's grown up so much since I last saw him," Elizabeth remarked, her eyes shifting back towards the swings. Burt looked, too, and found another shock. Kurt was a teenager now, tall and thin, hair tall and styled, but Blaine was the same. They weren't swinging anymore, but laughing, water balloons in hand as Blaine leapt forward and caught Kurt around the waist. With a shout they tumbled down into the wood chips, laughing and squealing as water splashed onto Kurt's head and ruined his perfectly coiffed hair._

_"He's incredible, Liz," Burt murmured. But he still didn't understand what he was seeing or why everything was becoming harder to see. It was like he was slowly going blind. _

_The two boys rolled about, struggling to pin the other as they laughed and smacked water balloons against the other._

_"They both are," Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand tightly. Her palms were suddenly sweaty and felt different, bigger and stronger, yet still soft. Less like his wife's and more like the young man he couldn't stand to leave behind. "Together, they're going to be all they've ever dreamed of. Trust that and trust what your heart tells you, Burt. Things don't always make sense when they're happening, but hindsight can teach you so much."_

_"I'm not sure what–"_

_But she was gone when he turned back to her. The entire park was slowly being swept away from his fading vision. For a moment, he had one final glimpse of the two boys over by the swings, Blaine finally pinning Kurt down. They were still laughing, smiling at each other in a way that made Burt's heart leap into his throat until he thought he was going to choke on it. Slowly, Kurt's hand captured Blaine's jaw and, still beaming at each other, Blaine let Kurt's hand guide his mouth down to his..._

Burt gave a hoarse groan as his eyes flickered open. It was dim and cold. Elizabeth's hand was still clamped around his. Or was it Elizabeth's? With a huge effort, Burt rolled his head to the left and made out a head of short brown hair next to their joint hands.

Kurt.

His son was– where were they?

He tried to speak, but his lips were cracked and dry and refused to cooperate. His eyelids sunk closed again, but he had to let Kurt know. He was here. Daddy was here and he wasn't going anywhere. Concentrating all of his energy on his left hand, Burt managed to move his fingers, flexing them until–

Kurt smacked his lips in his sleep and raised his head. His hair was a wacky mess of spikes and his entire right cheek was imprinted with the texture of the bedding. Burt worked his fingers again. Curl, uncurl.

"D- Dad?" Kurt gave a yelp as he sat up straight and squeezed Burt's hand. "Can you hear me?"

Burt tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a weak, hoarse grunt. It was so soft he barely heard himself.

"Oh my god–"

"Kurt? I got you a coffee, too– what's going on?"

Blaine appeared behind Kurt, his face going from confused to absolute relief. The Styrofoam coffee cups splattered against the floor as Blaine raced out.

"Nurse Nancy! Doctor Rubens!"

Kurt was trembling, his grip so tight Burt could barely feel his fingers. He clumsily poured a cup of water from the pitcher left on the little tray-table beside the bed and helped Burt take a sip.

"Dad, I thought– but you're _awake_!"

Kurt was crying and Burt was horrible confused. His memory wasn't working, but as Blaine raced back in with a woman in a nurse's uniform he realized something horrible had happened that his mind hadn't let him catch up with yet.

"B- been taking g- good care of m'boy," Burt managed to rasp, eyes focused on Blaine standing patiently at Kurt's side.

"Always," Blaine agreed as the nurse started to examine him.

Burt remembered little of the day after that, but it was enough to know that Kurt wasn't alone. Not anymore.


	16. Chapter 15: Surprises

****A/N: A short update this time! I'm not sure when the next will be. Earliest estimate is late this week, perhaps Thursday, but definitely by early next week, Monday/Tuesday.

Enjoy!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 15: Surprises**

The following week was one of the happiest of Kurt's life. With each day that passed, Burt grew stronger and more aware. By Wednesday, the doctor's had given Kurt and Carole a packet of papers and diet information to follow for Burt's care when he returned home Friday afternoon. He was ecstatic by the entire turn of events, and barely had time to focus on anything else. If it hadn't been for Blaine and Mercedes getting him to sit down, eat, and do homework, Kurt had no doubt he would have failed several classes for the first quarter of the school year.

Even the Glee Club couldn't hold his attention, though they all sang a few rousing, happy numbers when he came in Monday and announced his father's return to consciousness. The guys in particular had surprised him more than the girls. Sam hugged him so tightly he was lifted off his feet, and Puck slapped him on the back so many times that Kurt was sure he'd have a large hand-shaped bruise by morning.

By Friday morning, Kurt was a ball of energy, pinballing his way back and forth across the main level of the house as he made sure everything was set for his dad's return. The kitchen had been cleaned out of junk food. What little that was left had been tucked down in Kurt's dresser since Finn had whined miserably at the thought of an entire house going to waste without it. Bedding had been brought down for the fold-out couch in the back room along with several changes of pajamas for Burt and all of his bathroom necessities.

Carole zipped past him with the schedule of meals she'd created for the rest of October and stuck it on the refrigerator with a magnet.

"He's not going to like this at all once he's stronger," Carole commented, adjusting the page so that it was right at Burt's eye level. There'd be no excuses for him missing it.

"It's for his own good," Kurt reminded her, sitting Burt's toothbrush, toothpaste, and rinse cup on the counter next to the sink. He adjusted the little cup, then sat it on the other side of the sink. "Which side do you think he prefers?"

"Either is fine, Kurt. You know your dad won't care," Carole said gently. She scooped up her purse and caught Kurt's hand before he moved the cup again. "Relax, sweetie. He's fine and he's going to be home in just a few hours."

"I know, but I think he likes the right side of the sink better and–"

What if he was remembering things wrong? What if it had been his mother who'd liked that side? Would Burt be upset and have another heart attack if his toothbrush wasn't on the correct side?

"Kurt, it's absolutely fine," Carole assured him. She gave him a kind smile and lead him back to the hall. "Go on to school. I'm sure Blaine's waiting. You're already going to be late."

Kurt took a deep breath, glanced around the room again and grabbed his bag and scarf. "You're sure he–"

"Kurt this house has never looked better and your dad is going to adore all you've done to make his recovery easier," Carole told him as she nudged him towards the front door. "Get going! I'll see you at the hospital this afternoon!"

Kurt nodded at her praise and quickly headed out to his car and hurried to school. The first bell rang just as he was climbing out of his car. If he was lucky, he'd be able to sneak inside while the announcements were being read and not get marked tardy. As quickly as he could, Kurt hurtled across the parking lot and into the building, turning down the hall where his locker was and putting the combination in.

"Tonight's football game will be away at Riverbend High School. It begins at seven-thirty," Principal Figgins was saying as Kurt changed out books and notebooks at top speed. "And last, but certainly not least are today's birthdays. We have three today. Marie Aben, Blaine Anderson, and Cassidy Macdonald! Make sure to give birthday greetings to our birthday students when you see them!"

Kurt froze at Blaine's name. It was Blaine's birthday and he'd had absolutely no idea. Did Blaine even celebrate his birthday anymore? Frowning, Kurt hurried to class as Principal Figgins began the Pledge of Allegiance and slid through the door and into his seat just as everyone else sat down.

Blaine winked at him playfully and smiled as attendance started.

"Running late, are we?"

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday," Kurt whispered back, feeling hurt. Even if Blaine didn't celebrate it anymore, it was still nice to know these things.

Blaine's smile disappeared and he shrugged. "I haven't thought about it in years, Kurt. There's no reason to anymore."

"But _still_–"

"Boys, enough chatter! It's time to start today's lesson."

They both apologized and turned to the front. For the rest of the morning, Kurt pestered Blaine about his birthday and what he wanted to do, but Blaine refused all of Kurt's ideas and plans. He insisted they all just ignore it, because he wasn't actually turning seventeen. He never would turn seventeen and that was something he'd accepted a long time ago. Kurt didn't like it, but when Blaine reminded him that his dad was coming home tonight and that that was more important, Kurt stopped mentioning it.

Instead he shot Carole a text during lunch and explained everything and that, even though tonight was Burt's homecoming, he still wanted to do _something_ for Blaine. Even if it was just a cake and dinner, he wanted to celebrate his friend's day of birth in some way. A celebration like that was something Blaine hadn't had in a long time. To Kurt it wasn't about whether or not Blaine was actually turning seventeen or even sixty-seven, it was about giving Blaine something to make him feel human and cared for again.

By two o'clock, Kurt was anxious and unable to sit still. As soon as the afternoon dismissal bell rang, he tugged Blaine to his feet and out into the hall. They skipped their lockers despite Blaine's protests, and within minutes they were in Kurt's car and turning onto the main avenue through Lima towards the hospital.

"My jacket and my history book–"

"I've got my book and you can borrow one of my jackets if you get cold."

"But–"

"I don't want to be late, Blaine, my dad's getting out of the hospital and," Kurt paused as he turned left. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. His dad was getting discharged and was fine. They weren't going to keep him there any longer. They wouldn't take that back after how well he'd been doing. "I'm just really excited that he's coming home."

They arrived at the hospital just as Carole was coming out to put her purse and work bag into her car. She led them upstairs to Burt's room where Doctor Rubens was finishing his final exam before Burt was released. He beamed at the sight of his son, Blaine, and Carole as he pulled his shirt on.

"Hey guys! All ready to celebrate?" he shot Kurt a wink, which told Kurt that his text to Carole had been passed on to his dad.

Blaine grinned and stepped forward to help Burt climb carefully to his feet. Carole patted Kurt's shoulder and smiled at him while Blaine helped Burt into a wheelchair.

"We're going to pick up an ice cream cake on the way back," she whispered. "Nothing too fancy, but I got candles and a few little party favors on my lunch break and set them up at the house. Take the long way back home or something so we have a little more time, okay?"

Kurt nodded as Burt settled down in the wheelchair. Blaine and Nurse Nancy began wheeling him out into the hallway and then into the elevator. Carole and Kurt followed behind, murmuring about Carole's arrangements and how difficult it would be to keep Burt away from the cake. By the time they reached the entrance, Carole had hurried ahead to pull her car up to them. Kurt helped his dad into the passenger seat and then set his bag and various possessions into the backseat.

"We'll see you at home," Carole called, waving as Burt rolled his window up and they pulled away.

Kurt watched them drive off, thinking hard about how he was going to distract Blaine without being obvious.

"We better get going, too," Blaine said, hitching up his backpack and nodding towards the far side of the parking lot.

Kurt watched Blaine adjust his bag once more and smiled. Perfect.

He took the long way back to their side of Lima, apologizing to Blaine for rushing out so quickly, and then insisting that they go back by McKinley so Blaine could grab what he needed. Blaine protested a bit, but when Kurt pointed out that they were passing by either way, Blaine relented and let Kurt drop him by the side door.

As he waited Kurt sent a text to Carole, asking if they were home yet and ready. He received a positive response just as Blaine climbed back into the car. They talked aimlessly on the way back to Kurt's house, but once they pulled in, Kurt couldn't contain his excitement anymore. Biting his lip painfully, he hurried out, bouncing and beaming as he circled and yanked Blaine's door open.

"Boy, you're certainly happy," Blaine commented, smiling himself as they headed up to the front door. "You'd think you just won the lottery."

"Well , my dad did just get home from the hospital," Kurt reminded him, trying not to laugh at Blaine's obliviousness. "I think I'm allowed to be super happy right now."

Blaine agreed as Kurt led him into the house and was getting ready to speak again when they turned the corner.

"Surprise! Happy birthday, Blaine!"

Blaine froze at Kurt's side, mouth falling open in disbelief. His eyes took in the handful of balloons and streamers and the single banner hung over the entrance to the kitchen that read "Happy Birthday". Kurt watched him anxiously, hoping Blaine wouldn't get upset about it all.

"You guys– but how– you really didn't have to–"

"Of course we did, kiddo," Burt told him from his seat on the couch. "Dead or not, we're still giving you a damn good birthday celebration."

"I just–" Blaine bit his lip, clearly fighting a smile. Kurt looped his arm through Blaine's and shook him a little. He could see the wonder in the other boy's eyes at the decorations and little gathering. It might not be much, especially by Kurt's standards, but it obviously meant more to Blaine than he could express. "It's seems pointless if I'm not actually turning seventeen, sir."

"Burt," his dad growled pointedly as Kurt ushered Blaine over to the couch. "None of that sir business, all right? You're a part of this family now, whether you like it or not."

Blaine sunk down beside him as Burt turned the television on and asked him which game he wanted to watch. Kurt watched the pair of them for a moment, heart thumping its way up into his throat. His dad adored Blaine. And for Blaine's part, he seemed pretty fond of Burt as well. Blaine picked a baseball game, eyes still scanning the decorations in disbelief and finally meeting Kurt's. He beamed at him, a huge, wide smile that lit up his face in a way that made Kurt's throat tight and his heart twange like a rubber band.

God, Blaine was so simple, so sweet and full of wonder. It shocked Kurt, in a way, to see it. After all Blaine had been through, he seemed to have forgotten how great and fun life could be; how beautiful and caring people were if he let them in. When Kurt thought about it, it wasn't surprising. Fifty years was a long time. Even his dad hadn't been alive for that long.

Carole headed into the kitchen and Kurt made to follow her, eyes still lingering as the two men on the couch groaned at the television. Kurt sat down on one of the barstools and kept his gaze on them, taking in Blaine's bright eyes and beautiful smile, the enthusiasm in his voice as he talked about the game with Burt.

"See something you like?" Carole quipped teasingly.

Kurt jumped and found her leaning on the counter, watching him look at Blaine.

"I– he– I'm j- just glad Dad's home," he stammered, face hot. He couldn't keep thinking about Blaine like that, or watching him and loving everything he saw–

With a strangled noise, Kurt glanced back towards the living room. Love. That's what this was, wasn't it? Love was the wave engulfing him and the riptide yanking him out past the drop off into the deepest part of the sea. Even if he'd wanted to swim away he couldn't; not when Blaine was the island waiting out there for him to wash ashore on.

"It is nice to have him home," Carole agreed, smiling sadly at Kurt. She reached over and took his hand gently, stroking his knuckles as Kurt looked away from the living room. He couldn't be falling in love with Blaine. Blaine was off-limits. Nothing could happen unless he wanted his heart broken completely. "It's great having Blaine here, too," she added after a moment. "He's very fond of you."

"I'm fond of him, too," Kurt conceded quietly. He swallowed thickly and tried to force the lump in his throat down. "I wish he could stay here with us forever."

"Nothing lasts forever, sweetheart," Carole reminded him. "It all ends some time, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth having while you can."

She said nothing else after that, instead returning to the stove. Kurt's eyes followed her for several minutes as he turned her words over in his head. It was almost as if she was encouraging him to pursue Blaine, to have his heart broken into a dozen jagged pieces in June when Blaine disappeared from his life for good. It was only when they had all sat down for dinner that Kurt realized he was going to have his heart broken regardless of whether or not he and Blaine became anything more than friends while he was here. His heart was sinking fast, falling in a way that terrified him more than his dad's hospitalization had. He was in love, or stumbling his way into it. Nothing was going to stop his heart from breaking now.

* * *

Dinner was amazing. The cake afterwards was even better. Blaine had never had an Oreo ice cream cake before, but it was a wonderful experience to share with Kurt, Burt, and Carole. After stuffing himself with several slices, they cleaned up the mess and unfolded the sofa-bed for Burt. Blaine watched Kurt get everything sorted as Carole helped Burt to the sink to brush his teeth and change. It took a while to get Burt back into the living room and onto the bed, but as soon as Blaine and Kurt had lowered him to the bed, he was out cold.

"How long is he going to be so weak for?" Kurt whispered to Carole, looking concerned.

Carole leaned down and tucked the blankets in around Burt, then pressed a kiss to his scalp. "A while, probably. Another month at least, depending on how he heals."

Blaine took Kurt's hand and gave it a squeeze. "He'll be fine," he assured him. "If he's made it this far, he'll make it through the rest. It's all uphill now."

Kurt nodded, eyes still on his dad as Blaine said goodnight to Carole and led him downstairs. They changed into their pajamas, Blaine using a pair of Kurt's since he didn't have his own, and started looking through the pile of movies Kurt had insisted Blaine watch before he left. Blaine wasn't sure what the point of the recent movies education was considering he probably wouldn't remember any of it once he was Beyond, but it was a nice thought. The movies weren't that bad either. So far he was enjoying all of them, even one called _Mean Girls,_ despite not understanding half of the social atmosphere.

"What about Rent?" Blaine asked, holding it up for Kurt to see. It was one Kurt had mentioned as a more recent re-make from a Broadway show, and he was curious to see it.

"Sure," Kurt agreed, settling down on the bed and watching Blaine. "Be warned, I'll do a lot of singing and dancing."

Blaine laughed as he tried to remember how to open the DVD player. "I'd be insulted if you didn't. You voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," Blaine told him as he pressed the play button instead of the open button. "Damnit, I hate this new technology."

When Kurt didn't laugh or tease him about being an old man, Blaine glanced over his shoulder and found Kurt watching him with bright, surprised eyes.

"Y- you think my voice is good?" Kurt stammered, hands twisted in his lap. He bit his lip and looked away from Blaine.

"Of course, I couldn't sing as well as you if my life depended on it," Blaine said. "Your tone, your range, all of it. Kurt, your voice is incredible. Just like you."

They both blushed and looked away from each other. Blaine scolded himself silently for saying the first compliment. He hadn't been thinking when he'd said that. Kurt needed to hear it, needed to be told how great and wonderful he was, but Blaine wished there was someone else to do it. Or that he could trade stomachs with someone else because his seemed to be permanently leaping around in his belly.

Blaine glanced back over at Kurt as he fumbled for the open button on the DVD player. He was smiling shyly to himself now, beaming so widely that it made Blaine's brain short out for a moment. Kurt was such a wonderful person, so caring and gentle, yet tough enough to survive the worst of high school. Blaine envied Kurt's strength. He watched Kurt continue to smile down at his lap, wishing he could keep that moment in his memory forever. The way Kurt's head was tilted, the crooked up little corners of his mouth, and the bright teeth peeking out from between his lips. He could imagine how blue Kurt's eyes were right now, spiraling galaxies that others couldn't yet fathom into their lives.

Something knocked Blaine in the hip. He jerked around, heart pounding as though he'd been caught, and realized what had hit him. It was the DVD player finally opening up for the disc in his hand. Blaine put the movie in and stood up. Thinking about Kurt's beauty, physical or internal, was foolish. He had to stop this.

Kurt had settled back against the pillows while Blaine berated himself again. For a moment, Blaine allowed himself to dream, and then slammed the door shut in his own face. So what if Kurt looked sweet laying there against the pillows with a little grin still lingering on his face? It shouldn't matter to Blaine.

But it did and he couldn't get it to stop.

Blaine dropped down next to Kurt, who slid in closer and rested his cheek on Blaine's shoulder. He swallowed thickly and tried not to think about how this would look if Carole or, by some horrible miracle, Burt wandered down here.

Instead he cleared his throat and tried to sit up and away from Kurt a bit. It didn't work and Blaine hated how glad he was that it hadn't. Kurt's warmth cocooned around his left side and settled in him like the toasty heat of a fire in the grate.

"Thanks," he mumbled as the previews start, "for the party. I'd forgotten what that was like. Just living, I mean, not getting older."

It had been a long time since he'd celebrated anything, especially for himself. Other missions had had birthdays and parties, but Blaine had always been too focused to actually enjoy himself. This time around, his focus was lax, almost none existent some days, and Blaine couldn't seem to get it back. He wished he could say it was because this mission had no real guidelines (especially in light of so many people knowing the truth about him), but as Kurt's hand came to rest on his thigh, Blaine knew that wasn't the reason.

A second later, Kurt's grip on his thigh grew heavier as Kurt leaned up and in and pressed his lips to Blaine's cheek. Blaine was so startled he didn't move. He thought he might have forgotten to breathe, too. It was just a quick kiss, a soft, pleasant, and slightly damp press against his cheek, but it was unlike anything Blaine had ever experienced.

His entire face was tingling as Kurt leaned back and smiled at him.

"I figured you'd enjoy it," Kurt said, eyes a vortex of blues and greens that made Blaine dizzy. "You deserve a nice day to celebrate you. That's what birthdays are for, even if you're dead."

Blaine barely understood half of what Kurt was saying. His ears seemed to be short-circuiting, the sounds of Kurt's voice rising and falling with the tempo of Blaine's heart beat. He looked over, eyes locking on Kurt's, the soft green swirls tangled around the different blue hues. Getting lost in Kurt was too easy. It was the reason he wanted nothing more than to close the gap Kurt had just placed between them and stumble his way into his first real kiss. That last one – the only one from his old life – certainly didn't count when he remembered how it had ended. He shuddered at the memory and did his best to shake it off.

"Kurt, I–"

A heavy, resounding thump echoed over their heads, followed by the muffled sounds of Finn cursing.

Blaine sat back quickly and shook his head forcefully. There had to be a way to get himself to stop–

Stop what exactly?

Kurt hollered upstairs to see if Finn was okay and got a curse-filled response.

It only took Kurt dropping down beside him, retaking his hand and resting his head on his shoulder again for Blaine to realize he was trying to stop the inevitable.

Love. That's what this had to be, even if it was just starting. He'd seen other people in love before, seen the look in their eyes and heard them talk about how amazing it felt. Looking in Kurt's eyes, being snuggled up with him and wanting nothing else to ever replace how content he felt in those moments couldn't be anything else. He wanted everything with this boy, but that was the problem.

Kurt was making him hope and dream and live a life he didn't have any more. All of the aspects of living that he'd let go of were suddenly everything he was experiencing and wanting and Blaine didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know what to do with anything else anymore, and that was terrifying. He couldn't be what Kurt needed if he couldn't get control over himself and he couldn't do that until he started facing the life he didn't have any more.

Was opening himself back up to life part of facing everything? Or was this some horrible, cruel temptation that was set up to potentially rip him and Kurt apart?

Jittery and nervous, Blaine sunk down into the pillows with Kurt and listened to the other boy start singing softly to the opening song.

_"Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear_

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_How do you measure, measure a year?"_

It was the first movie they watched together that made Blaine cry and for a split-second at the end, Blaine realized what he should do with his time here. This mission was designed to be open-ended, and yes, there was one very specific thing he had to overcome before it all ended, but the rest of the time...

Surely, nine and a half months of time with only that to do meant he was being given time to experience life – fun – that he'd never had before. His old life had been about getting out of Lima, dreaming and achieving and never doing much else. It had been difficult to keep fiends when he'd started realizing he was gay, and his life hadn't been much of one after that. Even before his realization, his parents and grandparents had played such a dominant role in his life that he'd never really had control over it.

Even if it was short, this was a second chance. Or, at least, Blaine was going to treat it like one.


	17. Chapter 16: Flash Forward

**Too Late**

**Chapter 16: Flash forward**

A week and a half after Burt left the hospital, Carole drove him back for his first follow up. They'd scheduled it to be during her lunch break and Carole regretted it almost immediately. It took forever to get Burt into the car and then back through traffic to the hospital. There was some sort of accident on the main boulevard in town and everything was backed up for miles. What was normally a fifteen minute drive ended up taking forty minutes, and swallowed up the majority of her lunch hour.

After circling back the long way, they arrived just in time for Burt's check up. Carole hurried to eat her lunch while Burt was looked over. Just as she was finishing up, Doctor Rubens appeared to tell her that Burt was healing up very nicely. His heart was in good shape, getting better, and he'd lost several pounds between his hospital stay and new diet.

"I can probably leave a few hours early," Carole said as she helped Burt out into the hall. Today was the most activity he'd had in a long time and it was clearly exhausting him. "I'm already a few hours over for the week. I'm sure I'll be even more so before Saturday. They won't mind."

"I can just stay in the waiting room and watch TV or read a magazine," Burt offered, stifling a yawn as they headed towards Carole's department.

Carole refused, talked to Alice at the desk, and then clocked out and collected her bag and coat. The drive home was just as long, and by the time they pulled into the driveway, Burt was asleep in the passenger seat. She prodded him awake, then circled around to help him up to the house.

"The boys should be home by now," she told him as they clambered up the steps and through the front door.

Burt nodded sleepily, yawned loudly, and let her slid his jacket off his shoulders. He hobbled his way into the living room, Carole trailing behind as Kurt's laughter reached her ears.

"No, that is _not– _Ah! Don't t- t- t-ickle m – _eek!"_

Finn thundered out of the living room, slipping past Burt and greeting both of them before he disappeared down the hall towards the bathroom. An explosion echoed out of the living room, followed by the high-pitched spray of lasers. Burt had already disappeared into the room, and Carole, curious about Kurt agreeing to watch an action movie, stepped in.

The sight that greeted her was one that was becoming more frequent. Blaine and Kurt were nestled together on the couch, so obviously in love and denial that it made her heart feel faint. They were both laughing again. Carole glanced between them, at Blaine's still teasing fingers threatening to tickle Kurt and then towards the screen where a giant white robot and a man in a bathroom robe were talking.

"_Blaine_," Kurt scolded as Blaine's fingers threatened over Kurt's neck and shoulder. "Don't you _dare– "_

"Why not? Are you _ticklish,_ Kurt?" Blaine's fingers grazed Kurt's skin. Kurt yelped and swatted at him.

Burt grumbled and slumped down in his chair, reclining back and covering his face with his cap.

Carole shook her head fondly and grabbed a blanket. By the time she'd fixed it around him, Finn had returned and was demanding to know what he'd missed. Blaine and Kurt clumsily got him up to speed. It was quite obvious the impromptu tickle fight had taken all of their attention away from the screen.

"Are you boys hungry?" she asked.

It was like Kurt and Blaine had suddenly realized she and Burt were home now. The bashful little glances and smiles vanished. They jumped apart, hands still impossibly linked together as they looked over towards her.

Completely in love, both of them. Carole didn't think anyone else had noticed yet, but it wouldn't be long. Burt was getting stronger and soon he'd see it, too. Whether or not either of them had figured out what the bubbling rush in their bellies and hearts were yet was a mystery. Part of Carole hoped they didn't. The very thought of them exploring and loving each other only to have it snatched away was horrible to think about. Even worse was the inevitability of it. Blaine was gone in June. No matter what they did or said or what happened between now and then, Blaine was leaving. He'd forever be out of reach for Kurt, so the idea of Kurt giving his heart to Blaine didn't sit very well with her. It made her nervous, but at least Kurt would still have his dad in June. He might be all right afterwards. At the same time, Carole couldn't stand the thought of either of them denying what was so apparent. Being in love was a shot in the dark a lot of the time; for Blaine this would be his only chance. As much as he didn't want to see either of them hurt, she could already tell it was inevitable.

"There's a healthy pizza recipe in those meal plans and idea sheets they gave us," Carole mentioned as Kurt and Blaine blushed, glanced at each other, and blushed darker. "How's that sound?"

"Can it have sausage on it?" Finn asked immediately.

"I'm sure I can make one just for you with whatever toppings," Carole offered. "Or you can make it for yourself. We can all make our own pizzas."

The boys murmured excitedly at the prospect and, at Carole's insistence, they paused their movie and headed into the kitchen. Carole looked at Burt's sleeping form, gave him a kiss on the head, and followed the boys into the kitchen. They took their time gathering everything and then making their pizzas. She and Kurt made one for Burt, filled with lots of vegetables and the healthiest sauce they had. It was Finn's idea to add grilled chicken to it, knowing that Burt was quite upset at the lack of meat in his diet.

By the time they finished cooking, Sam and Puck had arrived to hang out and the five boys decided to head down to Kurt's room to eat and finish the movie. Carole was surprised to see the little group acting friendly and getting along, but it made sense to her, too. They were all in Glee Club together and Finn had his weight training class with all of them except Kurt. In some ways, New Directions was its own little family.

"Hey, Blaine!" Sam hollered, circling around as they all started shouldering their way through each other to the basement.

The two boys did a weird little handshake that Blaine fumbled and laughed at before the group disappeared downstairs.

"They're all getting attached to that kid," Burt yawned, startling Carole.

She turned toward him, plates of her pizza and his in hand. He was slowly sitting up, shoving the recliner back under the seat. Carole hurried to set the plates down and arranged a better spot for him on the couch. They sat down and started eating as the sound of the movie trickled upstairs to them.

"I think we're all getting attached," Carole said sadly as Blaine's voice squeaked and laughed from downstairs. Clearly the tickle war had resumed. "It's impossible not to with Blaine."

Burt hummed in agreement and took a bite of pizza. "Must be why it's been so easy for Kurt to start falling for him."

Surprised by the observation she hadn't expected for a little while longer, Carole looked over at Burt. He wasn't frowning or smiling or in any way betraying how he felt about it. Maybe Burt didn't know how he felt about it yet since they weren't actually together.

"Yeah, they're both falling fast," she remarked. Carole busied herself with her pizza for a few minutes before she added, "It scares me, Burt. In June–"

"They'll say goodbye for now," Burt finished, his voice strong and sure. "Kurt is strong. Hell, he's stronger than any person I know. He's sixteen and already been through more than most people our age. Even I haven't lost a parent yet, and then everything he deals with at school... "

Carole bit her lip, but agreed. It wasn't a statement she could disagree with, but Kurt had never had his heart broken like this before. Carole had experienced that devastation when Christopher had died, and Burt with Elizabeth. Losing a parent was terrible, yes; her own father had passed when Finn was just starting middle school. But there was an overwhelming difference in the love expressed between someone related to you and someone you chose to bring into your heart.

"I know, but he's never given his heart to someone like he could with Blaine," Carole reminded him uncertainly. "You and I both know how devastating it is to have someone you love that deeply die."

Burt sighed, his shoulders sagging heavily as he set his plate on his knees. "I know, but," he paused and looked over towards the silent, dark television. It was like his consciousness had left him all over again when he did that. The same thing had occurred more than once since he'd woken up a few weeks ago and Carole couldn't help but wonder why. He was clearly seeing or imagining or remembering something important. "I saw Elizabeth just before I woke up," he finally said, his gaze slowly coming back to her face. "I don't know if it was real or just me dreaming, but Kurt and Blaine were there, too."

Stunned, Carole squeezed his hand and asked, "What happened? Did she say anything?"

Burt nodded. "It was the day I went to say goodbye to her by myself, before Kurt did. I got home and he'd run off to the park and nobody knew where he was. In the... dream," Burt decided, "it was the same thing, only I got to the park and he wasn't there. Not at first. Elizabeth was."

Carole stared at him anxiously, waiting for him to continue. Since he'd woken up his speech had been slower. It wasn't slurred or rough, but it was like he thought a lot more before he talked now. As if there was a new heaviness to his conscious thought that weighted his tongue down.

"She made me sit with her and I was panicked because Kurt wasn't there, but then she pointed over towards the swings where I really found him and he was over there on the swings," Burt said carefully. "He was talking with Blaine. I guess that's what really happened that day, or what I imagined it as. I don't know.

"She kept telling me that Kurt wasn't alone now because he had Blaine," Burt continued slowly. "And that it was his turn to start his own journey with true love and when I looked again Kurt was a teenager, maybe a little older than he is now, and they were playing around and they fell over together and rolled around and they started to kiss just as I woke up."

Burt trailed away as Carole watched him rub his face roughly. "I don't even know if she was real; if she was actually there to talk to me or if I was just imagining that."

Carole mulled over everything Burt had said as he wiped at his eyes. It was a lot to take in, particularly in light of everything they knew about Blaine now. Had it been Elizabeth reaching out to Burt across Time or was it just Burt's imagination taking a stroll while he was unconscious?

Either way, the advice and wisdom was honest and true. Kurt was growing up. In a few years, he would be starting his own life somewhere outside of Lima. It _was_ his turn to start his own journey in life and love and everything in between.

"I think I was just dreaming," Burt decided, sighing again. "Before I woke up, she – she said that 'Together, they're going to be all they've ever dreamed of', but how can they if Blaine leaves in June?"

"I don't know," Carole answered honestly. "The more I hear, the less I understand about any of this. Blaine's here for a reason, Burt. I like to think all of us are, and if what they have really is true love, then I'm even more scared for them. Moving on from something like that isn't easy. For some, it's impossible to forget. Everyone else is just a failed comparison; it took both of us a long time to ever give someone else a chance."

"I can't stand in their way," Burt said. "Neither of us can. I hate that Elizabeth got sick and died, but I wouldn't trade the time we had together for anything. I got my amazing son out of it and one of the greatest loves I've ever felt. I have him here with little bits of his mother shining through every day. I'd never give up what we shared, even if I'd known how it was going to end beforehand."

"Me, too," Carole agreed, thinking of Christopher and Finn. They were worth it, even when it ended, Chris had absolutely been worth it. "Nothing lasts forever, but they should love while they have the chance. Their hearts are going to break no matter what."

Burt nodded sadly and kissed her temple. "I wish life was a little more fair," he muttered.

"If it was Kurt and Blaine never would have met or had this chance," Carole reminded him.

"If it was, they would have been born in the same time," Burt countered. He dropped his cheek against hers and added softly, "I just want him to follow his heart and enjoy and experience life. Even the painful parts of love."

Carole settled into his embrace. Part of her agreed, but a small voice kept reminding her of the heartache in store. It would tear Kurt apart to lose Blaine, and she was terrified of what that would mean for all of them. If Elizabeth had really been there, then what the boys had was something true, honest, and remarkably uncommon in this world. Trying to get over that, even when Kurt knew it was coming, wasn't going to be simple. From this point in time, it looked nothing short of impossible.

* * *

"And then Blaine did this adorable Jersey accent and the guy that opened the door just started _laughing_–"

Mercedes, Sam, and Rachel all laughed as Kurt finished up the retelling of last night's Halloween adventure. Blaine smiled as he watched Kurt entertain their new little lunch group of friends. It was funny how fast it had happened. A month ago, it was just Kurt and him barely talking to the other Glee Club members, and now they had three others sitting at their table for lunch.

Mercedes wasn't surprising. Every morning now, Blaine caught up with them in the hall, finding them discussing various fashions and styles Blaine could never keep straight, and then in the afternoons they were jabbering away at Kurt's locker when Blaine pulled up from his last class across the building. Rachel had literally shoved her way onto the bench until they'd started purposefully leaving her a spot, but Sam was unexpected. Sure, he and Blaine talked and joked around in their Weight Training class a few afternoons every week, and they were partners in their shared History class, but Blaine hadn't expected the other boy to want to be friends. Someone actively wanting to be friends with him wasn't something Blaine was used to. It was weird, but very welcomed, too.

Having friends was part of living life again, and even if it was only temporary, there was no reason not to make the most of what he had.

Except romance.

Blaine eyed Kurt laughing at Sam's tale of taking his younger siblings trick-or-treating last night and squashed down the usual tingling leap in his stomach. He might have decided to live his last mission as if it was his own life, but he couldn't put Kurt through that. Him leaving in June was already going to hurt more than enough.

"Stevie was a great little Spiderman," Sam finished, grinning over at Blaine. He nudged him with his elbow and Blaine nudged back. It wasn't something boys had done when he was a real, live teenager, but he was slowly getting used to how people interacted now. "I still would have made a better Situation than you," Sam added teasingly. He patted his abs and gave the others a cocky little smile. "These babies were made to be viewed by all."

Blaine didn't miss the bashful look Mercedes tried to hide. He wondered how long it would be until they got together, and if he'd even get a chance to see it happen. Maybe he could help them along a little while he was here.

"At least I don't squeal in horror at the sight of a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos," Blaine countered playfully.

Sam gave him a wounded look, but the light dancing in his eyes told Blaine that Sam knew he was kidding. Well, mostly kidding. Sam really did freak out and run at the sight of Doritos. It was a little alarming how much people in this century cared about their body's physical shape. There had certainly been a decent amount of expectation for fitness when Blaine was alive, but nothing compared to the epidemics of today.

"Dude, not fair," Sam whined. "I _love_ Cool Ranch Doritos–"

"I've got a bag in my purse," Mercedes offered. Her skin was too dark for Blaine to see her blush, but the little unsure smile told him she was.

Sam stared at her, biting his lip until Blaine nudged him again and nodded across the table towards Mercedes. "He'd love to have some." To Sam he added, "One little bag isn't going to hurt, Sam."

"If you say so–"

"Careful, Evans," a voice hollered over at them. Blaine looked up and found the usual table of football jocks looking towards them. "Keep hanging with those fags and you'll wake up with a pussy where your dick is!"

Sam growled low in his throat and moved to stand up, but Blaine held him down. The jocks across the room laughed and congratulated Azimio on his shout.

"They aren't worth it, Sam," Mercedes said sternly. She reached out and grasped his hand. "They aren't half the man you are."

Rachel agreed with a silent nod, but the jocks didn't seem to care for their silence.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, queers!" Azimio shouted. Most of the cafeteria had fallen silent to watch. Blaine wished a teacher or someone was present to stop them. He didn't want to deal with this at all right now.

Karofsky climbed to his feet. "Come on, you stupid fairies, why don't you sing us a song? Spread some fairy dust out from the crack of Anderson's a–"

"Karofsky, take a seat!"

Coach Beiste had appeared, empty tray in hand. Blaine sighed in relief. She bellowed a few more choice words at her team, then dropped her tray by the dish line, and stood guard for the remainder of lunch.

When the bell rang, the five of them climbed up and hurried out. Blaine's face was hot with embarrassment and anger. It had been a few weeks since the jocks had made a point to call Kurt or him out, but there'd still been the occasional group Glee slushie in the morning.

"Jeez, they're suck jerks," Sam complained as they filed out towards the gym.

Kurt frowned and glared in the direction of the letterman jackets disappearing down the hall. "I wish they'd grow up. They're so–" he made a noise of frustration and clenched his fists. "I'd almost rather have the dumpster tosses than that."

Blaine shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "Words we can deal with, especially when it's just the same homophobic nonsense they always spew, okay? Don't ever wish for something like that back. Physical stuff is so much worse."

The other three looked at Blaine curiously, but the warning bell rang and broke them up.

"I'll see you after in Glee!" Kurt said, giving Blaine an encouraging smile as he darted off with Mercedes and Rachel towards the back stairwell.

Sam and Blaine watched them go until they disappeared around the corner. Slowly, they followed the hallway where Karofsky and Azimio had gone. The one bad thing about their little encounter during lunch was that they all had class together right after. If they were already hounding on them, it was only going to get worse.

Stomach tight with nerves, Blaine followed Sam around the corner and into the boys' locker room.

"Guys, look! I'm an elephant!"

Puck appeared instantly, an inflated condom taped to his nose. He made an obnoxiously loud noise like a trumpet and trampled away towards the showers. A wave of laughter swept the room as Puck stampeded from one side to the other. Sam and Blaine hurried to their lockers, changed, and joined up with the other Glee guys as they headed into the weight room.

Coach Beiste hadn't appeared yet, as Blaine found out when Karofsky shoved him into the room from behind.

"Watch it, fag!" he snarled as Blaine stumbled into Sam and almost fell over.

"Back off, Karofsky," Mike snapped, stepping forward as Blaine regained his footing. He stared hard at the floor and stepped back from Karofsky and Azimio. They might be completely outnumbered by Glee guys in this class, but Blaine hated confrontation and being tossed about. He didn't like having anyone else stand up for him either. Karofsky was a jerk, but these boys weren't any real threat to him. Being dead did have some benefits.

"God, you're all turning into a bunch of fairies," Azimio complained. "How the hell we ever gonna win a game if you guys are too busy taking it up the ass?"

Coach Beiste stepped into the room just as Finn caught Puck around the middle and held him back.

"All right, guys! Upper body today," she announced as the guys separated into their groups, Karofsky and Azimio on one side of her and the rest on the other. "Let's see if anyone's moved up any since last week."

They separated into smaller groups, Sam, Blaine, and Mike in one, Finn and Puck in another, and then Karofsky and Azimio in the last. The actual class went pretty well. Most of the guys had increased their reps, and Karofsky left them alone in favor of lifting. Blaine was the last up twenty minutes before the end of class. When Coach Beiste set him at his usual weight, he didn't expect to feel a difference. After two months, it hadn't changed and Blaine knew it wasn't going to. He might be here and he might be pretending to be alive, but his body wasn't going to change in the slightest.

"Come on, dude," Finn encouraged as Blaine settled down on the bench. "You can totally bump up this week."

Everyone but Azimio and Karofsky agreed, and Blaine, despite knowing it was hopeless, decided to try his best. He settled down on the bench, feet flat and relaxed as he stared up at the bar. It would probably hurt like hell to try for more, but at least he wouldn't look like he wasn't gaining anything.

As Sam helped him on the first lift and drop down, Blaine was so surprised he almost dropped the whole thing onto his chest. It _was_ lighter. Or felt like it. As he started, he glanced at the weights and found the numbers hadn't changed. Horribly confused, Blaine finished his first rep with ease and Coach Beiste added ten pounds to his bar. The tension returned to his arms as he lifted, and Blaine pushed through it until he was done.

Coach Beiste dismissed them and Blaine followed the rest of the guys back into the locker room, confused but pleased with their congratulations.

"Looks like the fairy can finally lift more than a pencil," Karofsky snarled, his fist slamming into the locker right behind Blaine's head.

Blaine jumped and backed away as Karofsky laughed and eyed him darkly. "You're such a scared little tit, Anderson," he added before he stalked off to his corner of the room.

Sam nudged Blaine towards their side, and patted him on the back. "What the hell is his problem, anyway?" he muttered as Blaine fumbled with the lock on his locker. "He's always been an ass, but he's barely even bothering Kurt now. He's only going for you."

Blaine frowned and glanced over towards the door as Karofsky slammed his way through it. It was true. In recent weeks, Karofsky had stopped pestering Kurt in favor of him. If the circumstances had been different, then Blaine would have wondered why, but he thought he understood part of it. This was about him facing his past, and Karofsky was the worst bully McKinley had to offer right now. That meant, if he did this right, Kurt's worst nightmare would ultimately become his, too.

"Probably because I'm too 'normal' to be gay," Blaine grumbled in annoyance. He imagined that _was_ part of Karofsky's problem with him. Blaine didn't have a lot of trouble passing as straight if he wanted to. He didn't fit into the stereotypical box that Karofsky thought he should. "Don't worry about it, Sam. He's just a stupid bully."

"That's exactly why I _do_ worry," Sam countered, looking uncomfortable. "We're bros now, and he's stupid enough to do something bad. But that's not the scary part because a lot of them are stupid enough for that. _You _aren't scared of it. It's like you don't think he can hurt you or something, and he totally could, man. You're just flesh and blood."

Flesh and blood and very dead, Blaine reminded himself. It might hurt, but it couldn't kill him again. Nothing would hurt as much as that had. Maybe he was foolishly fearless in that regard like Sam had noticed. There was a good reason for him to not entirely take the jock seriously. He just couldn't tell Sam that.

"I'll be fine, Sam," Blaine assured him. "Look, I'm gonna shower up. I'll meet you guys in Glee, okay?"

Sam started to argue, but Blaine insisted that they go ahead. Once the locker room had cleared out, Blaine grabbed his towel and hurried into the shower. He made it quick, washing up and then coming back out to change. He was just finishing the last adjustment on his bow tie when the door banged open.

Exasperated, Blaine rolled his eyes. "Sam, for the fourth time, I said I'm–" the words died in his throat as he turned and saw who had entered. "Oh," he said, eyeing Karofsky uncertainly. The other boy glowered at him and let the door close. "What are you doing back here? Don't you have to go macho yourself up with your bros?"

"Shove it, Anderson," Karofsky snapped, shoving his way past Blaine over to his corner. "Forgot my shirt from yesterday," he added.

Blaine said nothing and hurried to finish up, but just as he was shutting his locker, Karofsky got back to the doorway and glared over at him. "I don't know why they let you into this locker room," Karofsky remarked, jaw tight with anger. "We're all one change away from getting ass raped by you–"

"Oh, shut up," Blaine snapped in annoyance. "Just move so I can get to Glee Club."

Karofsky's fist smacked back against the lockers by the door and Blaine jolted backwards again. He tried not to flinch, but couldn't manage it. Noises like that, anything that reminded him of fists or bats swinging and hitting things, made him remember the parking lot and the beating he'd taken. Blaine swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as Karofsky laughed at him.

"Please, move," Blaine requested.

"Or what? Are you going to run away or drown me in your tears, queer?" Karofsky glared at him and shoved him hard enough for Blaine to take a step back. Blaine's throat went tight and for the first time since Karofsky had started to zone in on him, he realized Sam might be right. Maybe he should be scared. This was too much like before. Lee had always–

_Smack!_

_The heavy wood of the baseball bat fell heavily against Blaine's chest. He wheezed and stumbled, trying to duck away or pull himself free from the other boys struggling to keep a hold on him–_

Karofsky's grip settled around his bicep. Blaine yelped and, on reflex, twisted out of the other boy's reach, sidestepped, and ducked out behind him and through the door. After that, he ran. Down one hall and then another, trying to ignore the echoing in his head and the sudden fear that was engulfing him.

It had to happen again. His worst memories and nightmares were all going to have to come back to life. There was no escape except being ripped from Time again.

His foot snagged on a loose piece of linoleum and Blaine tumbled to the ground, panicking and trembling. He wasn't ready. He couldn't do this again. Karofsky was just like his own bully, only he was still cruel and living and capable of everything Blaine never wanted to experience again.

A door squeaked open nearby, and Blaine shuffled back towards the wall away from it. His tears were blinding him, but he didn't want Karofsky to find him and he had no idea where he'd ran to. His back hit the wall and his knee knocked against the big trash can concealing him on the left. He'd be safe here until it was over–

"Blaine?"

A soft hand brushed his cheek and then another handful of voices reached his ears. He must have tripped right outside the choir room.

Kurt's fingers wiped a few of his tears away as Sam's furious voice echoed around the hall.

"If he hurt him, I'll kill–"

"Sam!" Mr. Schuester interjected. "He just tripped!"

"Blaine, what happened?" Kurt asked anxiously. He wiped at Blaine's eyes again and Blaine's vision cleared enough to see Kurt kneeled down at his side with the rest of the Glee Club standing in a semi-circle several feet back.

"It was–" Blaine choked and shuddered as more memories started engulfing him.

_"Look at that queer run!" Lee shouted and his teammates laughed and gave chase with him._

_Blaine ran furiously, out of the locker room and down the hall, his books and notebooks flying out of his arms as he went. Homework didn't matter when they were suited up for the first football game of the season and on his tail. He headed towards the student parking lot, the sun low on the horizon as he leapt down the steps, towards his car on the far side–_

"No, I'm taking him home," Kurt's voice insisted. "He's having another flashback– No, Sam. He's going home."

Blaine felt himself being hoisted up by a pair of strong arms and a shock of blond hair. He was carried out towards the parking lot, Kurt's hand in his even once they were buckled up in the car. There were more murmurs of protest from Sam, but eventually Kurt climbed in alone, reached over and traced his fingers along Blaine's cheek and then pressed another kiss to it.

For all the reaction the first one had stirred in his belly, Blaine only felt nauseous now.

"It's okay," Kurt voice's murmured in his ear. "Shh, you're fine. We're going home."


	18. Chapter 17: 1960

A/N: All right, guys. Just a quick note here, one to apologize for the lateness, and two to let you guys know that updates are going to be infrequent for the foreseeable future. Classes have started for me (18 credit hours, all reading and writing intensive, upper-level English classes. I get to read over 4000 pages of stuff for one of them by November so yeah, you can imagine how much time that's gonna take) and I work about 30-35 hours a week as well. Writing, especially with two creative writing classes to produce stuff for, is going to be slow. I've got a few more chapters of this on ice, so to speak, but I'm going to space them out so I don't end up with nothing stocked up.

For now, I'm estimating every fortnight or so. Roughly between 14 and 20 days between. I'll know much better once I get a few weeks of classes under my belt and figure out how to manage my time more.

And a **word of warning:** there's a flashback to what happened to Blaine when he died. **If you're triggered by assault or physical violence or anything of that sort skip the italic section. **

Enjoy!

**Too Late**

**Chapter 17: 1960**

Living a healthier lifestyle really made Burt feel stronger when he went to the shop for his first visit since his heart attack. Everything was running smoothly, but Burt knew his guys were dependable. It was the only reason he felt comfortable taking a vacation every summer and now as much time as he needed to get healthier. There was a good set of guys working for him and he appreciated it all the more when he saw how well everything had been going in the past month.

By the end of his short trip, Burt was tired. He headed back home, glancing at the clock in his truck as he drove. He'd be back about an hour before the boys got home from their Glee rehearsals. That left plenty of time for him to shower and steal the television in the living room before Finn nabbed it. It was his house. He was entitled to use his own flat screen when he wished, even if he hated bumping the boys off and making them scrap over the only other one in the house down in Kurt's room. Normally, that ended with a him nursing a throbbing headache from all the snarling seeping up through the floorboards. If there was one thing Kurt didn't tolerate very well, it was having his room invaded by a mob of roughhousing boys with an Xbox.

However, when he pulled up to the house, he was surprised to see Kurt's Navigator in the driveway and his son leaning into the open passenger door. Burt pulled in behind him, shut his truck off, and climbed out.

"You're home early," Burt called as he circled around the front of his truck to the passenger side of Kurt's. "Was Glee Club cancel–"

Burt trailed off when he came up next to Kurt and saw Blaine, shrunken and tearful, in the passenger seat.

"Shh, come on, Blaine," Kurt soothed, giving Burt a helpless glance. "We'll get in the house and it'll be fine."

But Blaine didn't move. His breathing was shallow, his knees drawn up to his chest while his fists were pressed against his eyes. It was clearly a defensive pose born out of the fear currently plaguing the boy.

"What happened?" Burt asked immediately. He gently reached in and touched Blaine's shoulder. The boy flinched a little, but accepted the touch after a moment.

"He– I'm not sure," Kurt admitted, looking frantic. He clutched Blaine's wrist and desperately trying to ease him out of the Navigator. "Sam said he stayed after class to shower and then we heard him trip and hit the floor outside the choir room and– I don't know. I think he's having some kind of flashback, but I don't know where it's coming from. It's just so sudden."

Burt watched Blaine for a few seconds. The boy didn't so much as move despite Kurt's hands on his forearm and Burt's tight squeeze on his shoulder. It was like nothing was left inside of him, like a shell of Blaine was tucked into the passenger seat. He'd never seen anyone have a flashback to something traumatic before. Blaine had certainly been close when he'd booked it out of their kitchen a month ago, but that had been panic-driven and full of blunt, fast motion. This was different, like Blaine was lost right in front of them.

"Let's get him in the house," Burt decided, ducking in and gently easing one arm under Blaine's back and the other under his legs.

"Dad!" Kurt scolded, his voice harsh as Burt started to ease Blaine out. "You can't _do_ this right now! Your heart can't–"

"The hell with that," Burt grumbled, carefully lifting Blaine and stepping back. Blaine's weight settled on his back and arms. The boy was heavier than he looked. "Get the door."

"But– Dad, your _heart–"_

"You arguing isn't making the strain on it any shorter," Burt reminded him, taking a step around Kurt and towards the door.

At his words, Kurt leapt into action, darting around his Navigator and up the porch to the door. Burt followed at a much slower pace, shifting Blaine's trembling body in his arms. By the time he reached the door, Kurt had it wide open and he hurried through to the living room, where he set Blaine down on the couch.

He groaned as the weight left his upper body, rubbing the parts of his back that he could reach as Kurt babbled anxiously before he stuffed Burt into his armchair. Then he started darting back and forth between him and Blaine until Burt grabbed his arm and made him stop.

"But Blaine's still– and your heart is _not_ ready for that–"

"Kurt, bud, I'm fine," Burt assured him. Now that Blaine's weight was off of him, he felt quite good. His heart was working a little faster than usual, but it was nothing painful or worrisome. "It's him I'm worried about," Burt added, nodding towards Blaine's huddled, tiny form on the couch.

Kurt nodded, casting him an uncertain look before he settled down beside Blaine.

"Blaine?"

Burt watched as his son eased his body behind Blaine and cradled the smaller boy against his chest. One hand wound itself around Blaine's waist and the other threaded through Blaine's hair, tugging the gel apart as he massaged the other boy's scalp. Kurt murmured against his forehead for a long time as Burt watched. It was striking to see the difference present in his son now. A few months ago, Kurt had nobody to hold like this; there hadn't been a friend in the world for him to go to or be needed by. The caring and nurturing young man he'd known for years was finally finding his footing again. He reminded Burt so strongly of Elizabeth right then, sitting there with Blaine the same way Elizabeth had sat up with their Chicken Poxed toddler for almost a week.

After almost an hour, Blaine started moving, his hands unclenching and moving enough to grasp Kurt's jacket tightly. Kurt fretted anxiously until finally–

"Kurt?"Blaine mumbled, his voice small and shaky. "W- Where–"

"We're at my house," Kurt said, breathing out a huge breath in relief. "Are you okay? Can you sit up?"

Blaine nodded woozily and, with Kurt's help, sat up and looked around the living room.

"Oh," he said softly when he spotted Burt, "I didn't drag you away from anything important, did I?"

Burt rolled his eyes and got up to join them on the couch. "Kiddo, you are the furthest thing from an inconvenience in my life. Hell, I don't know what we'd do without you. Stop acting like you don't matter, all right?"

"I–" Blaine gulped and rubbed the sweat from his brow. "Sorry."

"Stop that, too," Burt amended, casting Blaine a pointed look. "You've got nothing to apologize for."

"Right, s– right," Blaine stammered as Kurt's arm settled around his shoulders. "I– what happened? The last thing I remember was someone putting me in the car and then I was here."

"I– Sam put you in, then I drove us here," Kurt said slowly. "You were having some sort of flashback or something. Don't you remember?"

Judging by the expression on Blaine's face he _did_ remember and that was the problem. Remembering all of this had been like undercooked meat rumbling around in his stomach. Everything seemed to be coming back up today.

"I– it's hard to forget," Blaine admitted tersely. "I wish I could."

"The worst things in life are usually the most important," Burt told him. "They change you in ways you never really understand until much later. Forgetting them, even if it's how you died, isn't worth what else you'd lose. It's the worst that shows you yours, and other people's, best."

Blaine stared at him like he didn't entirely believe him, but eventually he nodded.

"What happened?" Kurt asked after a moment. "I mean, like, at McKinley? Sam kept snarling about Karofsky and wanting to go find him."

"It– nothing," Blaine answered, looking horribly guilty. After a moment of Kurt's piercing gaze and Burt's own disbelieving one, Blaine wilted a bit. "He was giving me a hard time in class. Nothing out of the ordinary, okay?"

"And after everyone else left? Did–" Kurt swallowed audibly and squirmed, "did he t- try anything?"

"What? No," Blaine said immediately. Normally, such a fast answer would alarm Burt, but the surprised look on Blaine's face eased his worry a little. Nothing too terrible had happened. Blaine was horribly shaken up, he had a few little cuts on his hands from falling, but nothing else seemed to have harmed him except his own mind. "He left, too."

Kurt frowned at Blaine, looking helpless and lost about what had triggered him so badly. "But then what–"

"He came back because he forgot something," Blaine added before Kurt could pester him further. "I was just getting ready to leave and we... we had words. I've been treating him like too much of a joke, I think. Like he can't hurt me because I'm dead and all of that, but... there's something not _right_ about him. He was–" Blaine shook his head, flinched when Kurt's hand brushed his cheek, and stared down at his lap. "There's something... sinister about him, Kurt. Not, like, evil or anything, but... he's got some sort of motive for why he goes after you – and now me – all the time. He's too much l- like Lee."

Burt watched the array of emotions that played across Blaine's face then – fear, regret, anger, but most surprisingly, sadness. He had no idea who this Lee was, only that he was inevitably a distant, and very central, part of Blaine's past and what had happened to him.

"Who's Lee?"

Kurt's question was met with an eerie silence. Blaine was so still it made Burt ache to think about what sort of memories were chasing each other through his mind right now. Clearly, whoever Lee was, or had been, wasn't a simple answer.

"He is– _was_," Blaine corrected carefully, his voice clipped and neutral, "my be– bully."

Burt took note of the stumble on bully. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't entirely believe it. There was certainly a lot of painful attachments to this Lee boy, but there was something else Blaine wasn't saying. Instead of calling him on it right now, Burt let the obvious fib slide. Blaine had been through more than enough already today.

"Oh," Kurt breathed softly. He bit his lip, looking hesitant as he plowed on. "W- were you remembering what happen when you... um, died?"

Blaine offered them a short nod, and didn't say anything for a long time. None of them spoke after that, not until Blaine had regained his usual posture and Burt was looking through the channels to see if there was anything interesting on tonight.

"I think Karofsky's your Lee," Blaine said suddenly. "Not exactly like him, there's so much that he isn't to you, but I think he's the person who could go the same route if I don't help... you? Maybe him? I'm not sure, but I think he's the one I have to face."

"Y- you think he's going to try to hurt us?" Kurt said fearfully.

Burt set down his remote down and turned to Blaine. "I know it really isn't my place to ask this, and you've got every right to refuse to answer, kid, but what _did_ happen to you? If it might happen to Kurt, then I want to be prepared and I want to be able to put a stop to it."

"I–" Blaine swallowed and shook his head fiercely. Kurt rubbed his back and Burt felt guilty as he looked away. He shouldn't have asked, but it was difficult to find the right etiquette for asking these questions without overstepping. Blaine was here to face his past, so bringing it up was necessary, but Burt hated to push such a traumatic experience. "I came out at the end of my sophomore year."

Burt turned back to the couch, surprised by Blaine's words. The circumstances alone were highly unusual for the time Blaine had grown up in. The 1950s weren't exactly known as an overly accepting time for a variety of reasosn. But Burt was hopeful that he would get an answer and that speaking about it would benefit him, too. If Blaine was ever going to get the ball rolling on facing his life, then maybe now was a good time to start.

"It was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done," Blaine added bitterly. "I told Cooper first. My brother," he clarified. "He was a little unsure. Being gay wasn't something really acknowledged or discussion or even _known _ about back then. It was the fifties and sixties. Anyone who was kept quiet about it and nobody spoke about it. Cooper accepted me, though. I told him at Christmas that year. As long as I was happy, he didn't care."

Blaine shifted away from Kurt's side, looking pale and sick. Without a word, Burt shut the television off and gave the boy his full attention. If this went where Blaine seemed to be directing it, then they might all be heading towards another flashback or panic attack.

"He was the only one who knew for a while," Blaine continued slowly, his voice heavy and rough. "I told my parents a few weeks before school let out. Them not knowing was just making everything too difficult, especially with my dad. He kept trying to get me to take his boss's daughter to their banquets and dinner parties and I kept making excuses. I think he was kind of glad when I blurted it out at dinner one night. At least he knew why I was lying. My mom... she just pretended like she hadn't heard me for a while."

Blaine shrugged out of Kurt's grasp and folded his arms tightly over his chest. "She didn't want it in the house or talked about. My dad... I think he understood in some ways, but he never really said anything. It wasn't proper to discuss it. Just brush it under the rug with everything else about our family that wasn't fit for decency.

"My mom still tried to get me to go out with a few of her friend's daughters. I still made excuses and they didn't push it, but one night my grandparents were over for dinner and... well, she brought up her latest friend's daughter and how I should take her to a picture show or something. She knew I wouldn't say no in front of my grandfather."

"So you went," Kurt deduced softly.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded vaguely. "We went out, she tried to kiss me, I pulled back and told her I wasn't interested. Word spread around by the Fourth of July. Lima was a tiny town back then, Kurt. Everyone knew everybody else's business. I ended up telling my grandparents when we went over for the holiday. My grandmother just cried and starting praying. My grandfather slammed the door in my face."

Blaine grimaced and stared hard at the coffee table. It was a few minutes before he spoke again. Kurt had his lower lip sucked between his teeth, anxiously trying to decide if he should pat Blaine's back or try to take his hand again while Burt watched.

It wasn't surprising to hear anything that had happened to Blaine so long ago. Burt had suspected it for quite some time, but it was still difficult to accept. Anything of that sort happening to anyone at anytime was ludicrous and cruel. Just because the boy had wanted to be open and let his family know he wanted to love another, one who just happened to be the same gender as himself, he'd been turned out and emotionally abandoned by all of them except his brother.

"My parents gave me one of the cars and money to go visit Cooper for the rest of the summer," Blaine finally said. "I went and we had a lot of fun, got back a few weeks before school started up. Everyone knew by then. Word just got out. My friends had all stopped talking to me. All of them except one." Blaine swallowed audibly, his hands shaking visibly as he unfolded his arms and gripped his knees. He was quiet and trembling for so long Burt thought he'd slipped into another panic attack or flashback.

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered, finally letting his unsure hand settle on top of one of Blaine's. The other boy jerked a little, ripping himself from whatever memory had caught him this time.

"Sorry," Blaine muttered. "It's just... hard to remember. It's hard to realize I can remember every little detail about that summer, but can't remember anything I've eaten in the past week, you know? It's just weird. Fifty years later and I'm still stuck with it."

"That's why you're here," Burt offered,. "to get unstuck from it." He cleared his throat and let Blaine take a few deep breaths. "So this friend that stuck by you, what happened to them?"

A little tickle curled around the edge of Burt's mind at the question. He had a sneaking, horrible suspicion about what had followed Blaine's return, but he wished it was wrong more than he'd ever wished for anything in his life.

"He, um," Blaine paused, swallowed and sucked in a shaky breath. "We hung out in secret for a bit, but... it didn't work out. He couldn't handle any of it and I– eventually he dumped me, too."

Burt filed away the choice of phrasing for later. There was definitely something more that had happened in those weeks before school, something Blaine had kept secret and safe for a long time.

"And then?" Kurt pressed gently.

Blaine swallowed once more. It was starting to look like a nervous tic instead of a desperate move to keep his throat from closing up. Burt adjusted his cap, watched Blaine finally accept Kurt's hand, and listened for the next twenty minutes as Blaine talked them through the day he'd died.

* * *

_Blaine tensed as he bounced back off the lockers in the main hall. The group of football players chuckled, congratulated each other, and then took their girlfriends' hands and carried on down the hall. Swallowing against the burning pain zigzagging along the bruises that now littered his torso, Blaine huddled down on the floor and hoped desperately that nobody else would take notice of him this morning. His entire first week had been nothing short of brutal. Blaine guessed that was what happened when the entire school – hell, the entire _town_– found out you were a homosexual. Even his best friend had finally turned on him._

_Blaine stared after the group that had just shoved him about, watching Lee's lettermen jacket stretch as he reached up to high-five Michael over Vanessa's head. A week ago that high-five would have been reserved for him._

_Miserable and aching, Blaine twisted a bit and fumbled with the combination for his bottom row locker. It was the only advantage of getting knocked to the ground half a dozen times a day; his locker was literally right next to him._

_"Hurry it up, queer!" someone passing by shouted. "You've only got five minutes before the buses leave! They need a good queer for road kill!"_

_Blaine bit his lower lip and tried to ignore the tears building up in his eyes. He didn't even know that girl. Another hour and he'd be home and would have the entire weekend to recover from his cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Maybe he could call Cooper tonight and let some of his hurt out. Cooper would listen. His older brother always understood. _

_As Blaine dug out the books he needed for the weekend and traded in the ones from his last two classes, he decided to see if the weight room would be empty for a bit. Right now he could really use a good workout with the punching bag hung up in there. Anything to get rid of all his pent up frustration and pain._

_When he went past the room, Blaine glanced at the schedule and was relieved to see that there was an entire open block for the rest of the evening. The only thing he would have to worry about was meeting the football team in the boys' locker room before their game tonight. He'd be gone by then, of course. That was hours from now. There was plenty of time for him to box for a bit._

_Blaine headed into the locker room, sneaking around the rows until he was sure the place was deserted. He'd change quickly and then get back to the weight room. The football team and a handful of other groups still had practice this afternoon, so he had to be careful._

_Blaine opened his gym locker and set his books and bag inside before starting to undress. He was halfway through changing when the locker room door squeaked open. _

_He froze, arms going numb as he fumbled to pull his sweatpants up. _

_"Thought you would have gone home after that."_

_Lee. The boy who had been his best friend for a decade had entered the room. Blaine glanced towards the other boy, in his football gear, helmet swinging from one hand as he opened his own locker. "Forgot my water bottle," he said offhandedly._

_Chest swelling with agony, Blaine stared into his locker as Lee grabbed his jug and closed the locker. The other boy had just reached the door when Blaine couldn't contain himself anymore._

_"Lee, I'm sorry!"_

_His watery voice rang out around the locker room. Lee paused at the door, looking angry and resigned. "And? You're a freak, B– Anderson. Apologizing for it won't do anyone any good."_

_"Lee, please," Blaine pleaded, not even bothering to check the tears pooling in his eyes as he turned towards him. "You... you know what I'm apologizing for. I was just– you're the only one who stuck by me and I just lost control–"_

_"Lost control of where you put your _lips_?" Lee hissed, eyes darting around the room nervously. "If that disease is contagious and I suddenly get it, then _my_ life is over, too!"_

_"It's not a disease," Blaine mumbled half-heartedly. Being homosexual was just something he was, not something another could catch._

_"Like hell it is," Lee snapped bitterly. "Do you know what everyone's been saying about you?" He swiped his sleeve over his lips just like he had a week ago, glaring over at Blaine. The distrust in Lee's gaze made Blaine look away. "Just go home and– just get out of here."_

_Lee left the room quickly and Blaine stood there for a long time, trying to suppress his sobs and slow his tears. Eventually he clambered down the hall to the weight room to box. He'd barely had twenty minutes before the wrestling team stumbled in with their coach._

_"Looks, fellas! It's the school queer!"_

_Blaine flinched and lowered his raised hands as the little group filed in and took turns shoving the bag towards Blaine. The coach, Mr. Dover, looked right past Blaine as he called the jeering boys over to the other side of the room. None of the teachers did anything to help him. Most of them silently encouraged the taunts and abuse. Jittery with nerves at the unsafe environment, Blaine grabbed his towel and water and hurried back to the empty locker room. After a quick shower, Blaine changed back into his normal clothes and started pulling his bag and books out of his locker._

_Again, the door banged open, but this time it wasn't just Lee that entered._

_"Well, well, if it isn't faggy little Anderson, here to find a good pecker to choke on!"_

_"That's what he wants, ain't it, Lee?"_

_The two boys, Michael and Jeff, snorted and laughed, nudging Lee who huffed out a few chuckles of his own. Lee always got nervous when his football friends got anywhere near Blaine. They'd never liked Blaine, but before they'd never had a reason to dislike him publicly. At the end of the last school year, Blaine had been popular and even adored by a large number of the student body. Now there was every reason for them to bully him openly and, if they could manage it, force Lee to do it, too. Blaine swallowed anxiously and shut his locker._

_"Let's just get the playbook out of coach's office and go before we catch _it_," Lee decided, eyeing Blaine carefully. Blaine could see the hurt that lingered there behind the anger and distrust. Lee still longed to be best friends again, still liked Blaine even if it wasn't the same as how Blaine had thought he liked Lee, but he was scared. He'd been stupid to think his crush on Lee had been anything more than it was. They were best friends and that was the end of it. The real end of it apparently. They weren't anything anymore._

_"What? And leave Anderson in here to molest a poor unsuspecting boy? No," Michael argued, glowering over at Blaine, who was trying to scoot along the row of lockers towards the door to make a run for it. "You better try and get out of here, queer, this locker room is no place for you."_

_"Yeah!" Jeff and Lee agreed, but Lee couldn't meet his eyes when he said it._

_Blaine took a few more steps towards the door next to them, but Michael blocked it and Jeff circled around him._

_"I think we should teach you a proper lesson," Jeff said, looking towards Lee. "You've got your bat in your locker still, right? Maybe we can beat it out of him–"_

_"Yeah," Lee answered, looking resigned to Blaine's fate. Blaine's stomach knotted painfully. He had to get out of here. If Lee wasn't going to help him, then he'd have to run. "It's still unlocked–"_

_Jeff moved off behind Blaine for the locker and Blaine darted forward, panic screaming through his limbs as Michael tried to stop him. Blaine managed to dodge the two surprised boys, but as he shoved through the door he could a locker slam open and the shouts of the other three in pursuit. _

_"Look at that queer run!" Lee shouted and his teammates laughed and gave chase with him._

_Blaine ran furiously, out of the locker room and down the hall, his books and notebooks flying out of his arms as he went. Homework didn't matter when they were suited up for the first football game of the season and on his tail. He headed towards the student parking lot, the sun low on the horizon as he leapt down the steps, towards his car on the far side–_

_His toe snagged on the edge of the huge pothole by the sidewalk. Blaine tumbled forward, bag sliding off his shoulder as his kneecaps hit the concrete. He was caught, trapped with nobody around to help him. Not that anyone actually would. The hopeless thought settled in his mind as the end of the bat smacked down against the pavement where his head had just been. _

_"Grab him!" Jeff shouted and two pairs of hands hoisted Blaine up and dragged him back towards the large pick-up truck parked next to the pothole._

_Heart hammering, Blaine grabbed at the fists tugging and stretching out his shirt and tried desperately to pull himself free. A second later, his back connected with the truck behind him. Gasping and wheezing, Blaine doubled over as the wooden bat tapped rhythmically against the concrete._

_"Who wants to go first?" Michael asked as Jeff and Lee pinned Blaine back against the car._

_Shaking and coughing, Blaine looked up and found the other boy with Lee's old bat in hand, watching Lee hopefully. It was the same bat he'd hit his first home run with in little league years ago._

_"Lee, please–" Blaine started, but the blunt end of the bat was jabbed forward, catching him under the ribs and making his gag and cough harshly again._

_"You think you're cool, you stupid little queer? Bet you want your mouth stuffed full of all of our dicks, don't you? You're going straight to Hell," Michael continued, shoving the bat towards Lee. He aimed a punch at Blaine's jaw, catching him on the chin as Blaine tried to move away."He's been creeping on you for years," he said viciously to Lee. "You get first dibs on him."_

_Horrified and trembling, Blaine tried vainly to get free, but his lungs were still spasming from the hit. "I didn't mean it, Lee, I swear. _Please_, don't do this–"_

_Lee took the offered bat as Michael took a hold of his right arm. Immediately, Blaine realized it was the wrong thing to say. Lee was terrified Blaine would say what had happened last week, and if he did–_

Smack!

_The thick wood of the baseball bat fell heavily against Blaine's chest. He wheezed and stumbled, trying to duck away or pull himself free from the other boys struggling to keep a hold on him–_

_"How could you lie to me like that?" Lee snarled and Blaine, trying to remember how to breathe as his ribs throbbed and cracked from the second direct hit, couldn't answer. Maybe it would have been better to lie to himself instead. "You were my best friend and I was just, what? The boy you thought was going to be your first victim, is that it? You thought you could turn me?"_

_"N- no," Blaine gasped out. "Lee, I wasn't–"_

_"Shut up!" The bat smacked into his stomach and then his shoulder. Blaine shouted in pain as something in his shoulder snapped and tore through his skin–_

_He made a desperate, breathless scramble to get out of the other two boys grip, only managing it because Michael had released the shoulder Lee had just broken. Blaine stumbled for a few steps, eyes swimming with tears, but someone caught him again, slinging him back into the side of the truck. The bat whistled through the air, connecting with his side and making him whine and attempt to curl in on himself._

_"Stop stop stop," he pleaded, legs shaking as a foot connected with his crotch. He yelped in pain, doubling over and no longer trying to hold in his gasping sobs._

_"That's so you never get to use it on anyone!" Jeff shouted._

_Blaine tried to get away again, his elbow catching the latest swing of the bat and sending him tumbling forward and into the pothole. The sudden fury of violence stopped as he curled up in the hole, hoping desperately that it was over and he could remember how to breath regularly again. Everything ached and burned. His ribs were like molten lava in his chest, screaming in protest against his rapid, ragged, and uncontrollable breathing._

_"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Blaine repeated helplessly, praying that Lee or God or someone would hear him and believe him and make it stop._

_"Sorry doesn't cut it," Jeff snapped at him. "Nobody wants you alive anymore. Just lay here and die!"_

_Blaine shivered and kept himself curled up, hoping that that was it. If it was over, then he'd survived. He'd crawl to his car and figure out how to drive home with a broken shoulder and tear-stained cheeks. Then sneak into the house and call Cooper as he cleaned up. Cooper would know what to do; his big brother was always there when we really needed him._

_"Come on, guys," Lee said, voice weak and breathless. "Let's get back to practice–"_

_"And not finish the job? We're only doing the world a favor," Michael argued. _

_"Michael, he's had enough, all right? He got the point–"_

_"Give me that," Michael snarled, yanking the bat from Lee's limp grasp and slamming the blunt end into Blaine's lower back. "Come on, queer. Come out and play!"_

_Blaine whimpered as the bat slammed down against him again. Despite his words, Lee made no move to step in and help. His head was starting to swim, his eyes still pooling tears. He lost count of the number of times the bat slammed into his body, mind going numb as he felt things break and crack from the force of the hits._

_Laughter– a homophobic slur–a fist yanking him up from the pave by his hair until he hollered in pain–_

_The bat cracked against his jaw– his vision blacked out and then the worst pain he'd ever experienced flooded his chest–_

_Footsteps raced away as Blaine sunk down into the pothole again, feeling like someone had connected a hose to his lungs. He was alone finally. Alone and gurgling up something thick and coppery..._

"I kinda went in and out for a bit," Blaine finished, hands shaking violently as Kurt held him close. "And then, well... you know the rest."

As Kurt clutched him close and Burt joined them on the couch, Blaine tried to regain some control of himself. He'd never told anybody what he'd just told Kurt and Burt. Granted, he'd left out most of the stuff with Lee because he didn't want to think about the other boy, but it was still more than he'd ever said about how he'd died.

"Kurt, go grab a glass of water," Burt said gently.

"But–"

"I've got it, bud," Burt insisted, prying Kurt's hands off of Blaine's shoulders and easing Blaine in against his chest. "Go on."

Blaine stiffened momentarily as Burt's arms settled around him. He felt tiny in the older man's grasp, like an infant all bundled up in his father's arms. Burt's arms gave him a good, firm squeeze and when he started rocking him, Blaine lost it completely. His own father had never dared to do such a thing with him. Physical contact between the Anderson men stopped at a very young age and from then on was limited to handshakes.

"I've got you, kiddo," Burt murmured as Blaine buried his face in Burt's flannel and let out the howl he'd suppressed for too long. "Nobody's gonna hurt you like that anymore as long as I'm here."

Still shaking and gasping, Blaine clung on, crying and choking as Burt rocked him slowly. Eventually his eyes drooped down with the exhaustion and rhythmic motion of Burt's rocking, his tears slowing until he drifted off to sleep.

What felt like days later, Blaine found himself sunken down into something soft and plushy with warmth wrapped all around him. He blinked through the sleep crusting his eyes and glanced around the dim room. Kurt's room. Someone had moved him down here and tucked him into Kurt's bed.

"Blaine? How are you feeling?"

He rolled over, sniffing and trying to clear his nose from the snot that had crusted over in his nostrils. Kurt was sitting on the bed beside him, remote in hand. The television blipped out as Kurt shifted closer, helping Blaine ease onto his back. A soft hand swept his loosen curls back and felt his head.

"You're still a little clammy," Kurt muttered anxiously. "Do you want anything? Water? Some soup or something else to eat?"

"Water," Blaine requested, rolling more towards Kurt instead of trying to sit up. His limbs were shaky and he was exhausted from earlier. The entire day was like a blur and a month all at once. Everything felt out of balance except for Kurt at his side.

Kurt fumbled with something on the night-stand, then twisted back and helped prop Blaine up against his pillows so that he could drink. Once the glass was finished off, Kurt set it aside and laid down facing Blaine.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," Blaine decided, rolling his shoulders a bit as he faced Kurt. They were much closer than they'd ever been. Blaine's heart fluttered a bit at the proximity, but he didn't have the strength to bother moving away. He was drained and felt clumsy and stupid. "just tired. Really tired. Please, tell me your dad didn't carry me again."

"No, Finn did. I tried, but you're heavier than you look. Back to sleep then," Kurt said. "But let's change into pajamas first, okay?"

Blaine nodded weakly and watched Kurt leap about the room, collecting his pajamas and the set Blaine now kept there for when he unexpectedly spent the night. Kurt headed into the bathroom with his and Blaine was left alone in the room. He took his time changing, his limbs heavy and stiff as he pulled his pajama pants on and then slid the silky button-up around his shoulders. It was only when he reached the top button that Blaine started to feel uncomfortable. He glanced down to find the shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest in a way it never had before. Confused, he stepped towards Kurt's vanity and eyed himself in the mirror carefully.

"Oh, you beat me to facial time!"

Blaine backed away as Kurt approached and settled down on the little bench. Instead of joining him, he stumbled back to the bed and collapsed, mind churning sluggishly at the too tight pajama top. Maybe Carole or Kurt had dried it with too much heat or something. His other shirts still felt fairly loose.

After another ten minutes of Kurt cleaning his face up, the other boy joined him on the bed, sliding under the covers while Blaine laid on top.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that," Kurt said suddenly, his voice tense.

"Not your fault," Blaine mumbled. "It won't happen to you," he promised. "I won't let it."

"I know," Kurt said simply, smiling slightly as he reached over for Blaine's hand. He laced their fingers together tightly and settled them between their chests. "It still isn't fair–"

"Most things aren't," Blaine reminded him. "But I'm here and for you it will be."

Kurt fell silent after that, his thumb brushing back and forth over Blaine's knuckles as they laid there in the dim room. Blaine watched him, sunk easily into the connection and familiar comfort of Kurt's presence so close. He could get so entirely used to this, to every day being another moment of a simple happiness in Kurt's touch that he'd never known before.

"Blaine, I–" Kurt bit his lip, looking guilty at whatever he was trying to say. "You said i- it won't happen to me because you're here."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, nodding for Kurt to continue.

"But, then why was nobody there to help you?" Kurt wondered. His eyes flickered down guiltily at bringing up the subject again. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep bringing this up after–"

"I don't know," Blaine admitted. The thought struck him hard. He'd never even considered it before, but he had no answer. Why was he here to prevent it from happening to Kurt, when nobody had been there to prevent it from happening to him?

Kurt looked down at their hands for a few minutes, and Blaine looked, too. It felt so natural, so right in a way nothing had for a long time. He'd never held another boy's hand before until Kurt. Now he did it all the time. There was constantly physical affection and contact, something Blaine had always craved in his own life.

"What did you want to do after high school?" Kurt asked suddenly, clearly trying to find a good topic to switch to. "You had a scholarship to Julliard, right?"

"Yeah, I wanted to be on Broadway and live in New York until I... until I met the right man and got married," Blaine choked a bit on the last part, wrenching his gaze away from their joined hands. What if he'd come back here just to find the right one and to know he could never have him?

"You sound like me," Kurt giggled, giving Blaine a small smile as Blaine looked over.

It was too much. On top of everything else he'd been through today, seeing Kurt wide-open and hopeful in front of him was his undoing.

Blaine tilted his head in and pressed his lips to Kurt's.


End file.
